The Gathering
by Kath McGill
Summary: It's a rocky first day of school for Frank, Jr. and his Irish cousins. Meantime Willie plays a dangerous game with far-reaching consequences and Tipper suspects she's being stalked. Follow-up trilogy for "Tabhairt Isteach Do."
1. Chapter 1

(I don't own MSW, or the characters, Tipper Henderson is owned and created by Anne, All other characters are created & owned by me. Please do not use~)

_**The Gathering, Part One: Tabor**_

_-by Kath_

TAP BOOM BOOOMM

Tipper rolled over and sat up in her bed listening to the echoing rattle of her windows from the sound that had awakened her.

TAP BOOOM BOOOMM

She felt the bed shake under her as she grasped the covers. The sound was nothing she had heard before.

TAAAAAPPPPP

BOOOOOMMMM

BOOOOOOOOMMMMMM

Placing her hands over her ears she closed her eyes to shut out the sound as it roared around her. The glass of her windows shattered spraying fragments about the room the furniture danced with each sound as if possessed. Tipper opened her eyes to see her book case tip over, showering her with the objects and shelves from the case. She screamed.

With a jolt Tipper woke breathing hard. Flicking on the small touch lamp she looked about her room. The windows were intact, the book case was positioned against the wall- it had been just a dream.

But of what?

She lived far enough away from the cove that she only briefly would hear the boats going out in the morning. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes she swung her feet over the edge of the bed and lowered them down to the floor. She felt something under one of her feet and pulled up before she put her full weight down on it. Curious she

looked between her feet and saw ten inch long stick that had a ball at the end of it. She picked it up, noting that there was a leather thong loop at the other end. The stick had been hand carved, it was all in one piece and it shown signs of being well used, and worn. It hadn't been there the night before. She never had seen anything

like it before, but she knew someone who would.

Glancing at the clock she saw that it was five thirty in the morning. Tipper grinned.

Yes, they would be up. With five kids in the house and three on the way it was unlikely that Willie and Taylor would ever get a good night's sleep again.

Ten minutes later Tipper was sitting across from Willie in his living room watching him turn the stick over in his hands. There was a rushing about around them. It was the first day of school and Ian was sporting new jeans that fit him just right and a snazzy crisp oxford shirt that made him look older. Patty was smoothing the fabric of her shirt with her hands, a far away look in her eyes. Shauna and Emily were turning about watching the folds of their skirts whirl with their movements.

"Will ye be seeing us off on the bus to school Dr Tipper?" asked Shauna. Tipper nodded, leaning forward to help Shauna with her coat. It was something that always warmed her heart, to see the children and the parents spending quality time together while they waited for the school bus. Taylor carried Oliver in her arms, Willie held Margaritas hand firmly as they walked to the curb watching the bus make a slow turn about the corner. Kisses were dispensed then hugs. Ian waited until his sisters were on before turning and giving Willie a nod. Somehow Tipper had the feeling Willie had told him to watch out for his sisters. She could see Frank on the bus waving to them. In the few days that he had moved away she had keenly felt his absence and was glad that she had a chance to wave back to him.

They waited until the bus was out of sight before returning into the warmth of the house. Taylor refilled Tipper's cup of tea before sitting down in the chair across from where Willie and Tipper sat.

"I heard something - I thought I was awake, but it was one of those nightmarish dreams when you think your awake. I heard a Tap, Boom Booom- but it was very loud and got louder and shook my house- broke the windows and a book case fell on me. When I woke - I, well, I put my feet down on the floor and almost stepped on this... It looks like - a drum stick," she said waving her hand at it.

Willie nodded. "It is... to a very special drum sort, but this is old, older than my gram or her gram. You can tell that by the weight, as they grow older they get lighter- a curiosity about them that they also get stronger with age unlike your current drumsticks that the young people play."

"Husband," Taylor said, "you don't have any drums in your shop, and its unlikely that something like this would just be found in Cabot Cove. We helped the children unpack, they didn't bring over anything like that..."

Willie regarded Tipper.

"Lass, I don't wish to alarm you- I know, we all feel safe here- but did you lock your door last night?"

Tipper nodded. "Who would be coming into my house anyways?"

For a moment Willie didn't answer. He took a slow breath and then let it out before looking at the drum stick and then looking over at Tipper.

"There are a few reasons why the children are here. One, yes, their mother is having a time with her pregnancy, Mother Rosemary and Mither are overwhelmed with the people who are coming to stay at the bed and breakfast since the story of the treasure being found broke- Gram's been taking care of their mother- and Toot's doing what the court wishes to make amends. The older ones can mind themselves, but, there were some who saw the children as a curiosity. Margarita is a handful of herself... Things started to happen though... Guests at the bed and Breakfast having horrid dreams, and like you finding things in their rooms. Mither took to locking the kids in their rooms for their safety, but things still happened they couldn't explain. Some said that the place was haunted, and that brought more people coming. Some said it was a Ghistie coming, and that brought even a more strange crowd."

Tipper glanced at Margarita - she seemed to take in every word that Willie was saying, except for the few sounds that she made the child did not speak. There was an understanding though, in her eyes, that Tipper could see that spoke volumes.

Ian made sure the girls were seated in front of where Frank was before he slid next to Frank and placed his back pack on the floor. Leaning forward he said something softly to the girls then turned back to where Frank was grinning. The other children who got on the bus waved hi to them as they found their seats.

"Friendly lot, arn't they?" inquired Patty to Frank over the back of the seat.

Frank nodded. "Boothbay is the same. Mum had three offers to help with Ruth by the first day." Frank regarded the handsome upper classman who flashed Patty a wide grin and winked at her as he passed to the back of the bus. Patty blushed and lowered her head shyly while Ian whispered into Franks ear, "She's Plug ugly and can't cook water with out burnin' it, why would he give her a look like that?"

Frank shrugged then thought for a moment. "Do you think Angela can cook?"

Ian was about to nod then tilted his head. "Didn't she burn her hand with the kettle?" he asked curiously. Frank nodded slowly. "Ah well, at least she has her vet practice to fall back on." Frank was about to become indignant then realized Ian was teasing him.

Frank had done his best to explain to the others how the schools signaled their periods, and what to expect. He watched both Patty and Ian flinch when the class bell rang, and hoped that Emily and Shauna faired better.

He groaned when a sudden WHOOOOPPHH WHOOOOPPHH WHOOOOPPHHH filled the air. He had forgotten about the fire drill they did on the first day. Patty let out a shriek and dove under her desk curled up in a ball. Ian was right beside her, urging her up. "Get her outside with the others." Frank groaned again hearing the laughing that came from the students, and with out asking, hurried down the hall to where Emily was. She was under the desk too shivering with tears coming down her cheeks. She clung to him as he offered her comfort, and the two of them fought against the sea of kids who were making their way outside to get to Shauna's room. The room was empty of the other students- save for the sniffing of Shauna under her desk. She came to him and followed as he lead them outside to rejoin Ian and Patty with their classmates.

"Proper little mother hen arn't you?" Frank heard a boy snide as they passed by the upper classman's grade. With out turning he knew it had been the boy who had turned everyone's head when he got on the bus. there was a snicker from the girls around the young man.

"Better than being a jackass," he said under his breath. A few of the others around him over heard him and started to snicker. "Called you a jackass," scoffed one of the others.

Frank heard a roar and ducked down to protect the girls as the young man charged him. at the last second he pulled the girls to the side and the young man went falling into the dirt.

Frank kept walking with the girls ignoring the shouts behind him. He wasn't sure where Ian and Patty were but, judging that the oldest ones were the first they encountered, logically, going down the groups of children they found them shortly. Patty was still sobbing quietly in Ian's arms.

Something came back to Frank, something he had heard from Taylor recounting why storms had terrified Willie so- 'Pipe bombs tossed into the primary schools filled with nails and glass' he mused. The odds of Willie being the doctor on call... Frank's mind was making leaps in connecting the time lines. It would stand to reason, as a doctor who practiced in the area of his home town that he would have become involved with taking care of the children after the bombings.

He didn't ask the whys as the four of them clung together, the younger girls crying on their brother and sister's shoulder. Frank heard an adult clear their throat behind him. he turned on his heal and faced Carol Murphy. "They were left behind in their classroom. The sirens mean bad things..." he said, then turned back to the girls and patted their shoulders.

Carol Murphy regarded Frank. He had known him for several years. When the upper classman had come to him saying the blond haired kid with black rimmed glasses had tripped him and ran, Carol knew the description fit Frank, but he also knew it wasn't in Frank's nature to do something like that. He could see the genuine concern in Frank's eyes for the girls.

"I'm sorry they have found their first impression of the school distressing, I hope that we can have things under control soon?" he asked, gently pulling out a handkerchief for them. Frank nodded as the group began to move back into the buildings. He knew they were the new kids, and that there would be some curiosity regarding them. Until things settled in, Frank knew it would be prudent to stay in the open and away from the upper classmen.

He didn't realize Carol Murphy had followed them into the classroom until he heard the distinctive cough from the back of the room. Curious heads turned as he came forward to where the teacher Mrs. Shallot stood waiting with a raised eyebrow. Frank could tell this wasn't what she expected.

"Well its wonderful to see all of you this new year," Mr. Murphy said. "I have a feeling it will be an exciting time. We have some new faces in our school, and I hope all of you will welcome them warmly. Would Molly Bishop come up and tell us a bit about yourself?"

Molly stood up and strode to the front. Frank watched as she gave Carol a shy smile then folded her hands to hold them. "My name is Molly and my dad and I moved up here this summer. My dad and my aunt Gretchen purchased the general store and I help him with the things that need to be done. My dad said Cabot Cove is a good place to raise kids and I am happy to be here," she said, flashing a smile to Mr. Murphy. Ian and Frank looked at each other. Frank had to do his best to prevent from bursting out with laughter. He swallowed his mirth as he heard his name called.

Sighing, he stood and went up to Mr Murphy and nodded. "I'm Frank, and Mr Murphy was my vice principal at my old school, so he knows all about me." Frank threw him a look over his shoulder and grinned. Looking back at his classmates he saw a few of them shifted in their seats. "I didn't do so well in English last year, so, my parents sent me up here to stay with my aunt to tutor me while dad and mum traveled for dad's work. I found out that I needed to wear glasses to see things, and I had more family than I knew, and we found a house to buy in Boothbay, and I hope that my life gets back to normal pretty soon."

Mr Murphy was grinning when Frank turned back to him. It was no more than what he expected. Frank returned to his seat and gave a sigh of relief.

"Ian McAvery ..."

Ian gulped and wobbled to the front of the room. "Hullo. My name is Ian, an I was sent over to live with my uncle and aunt to live earlier this summer. I'm the oldest in my family, older than my sister Patty by 4 minutes... aye, we're twins, but ye canna tell it by looking at us, I'm the one who got the good looks and charm in the family..." he said with a wink to the girls in the front seats.

With a nod to Mr Murphy he returned to his seat and nudged Patty up front when she was called. For a moment she stood trying to calm herself. "I'm Patty, and my sisters and I followed over to stay with our aunt and uncle a few weeks after Ian came. I won't dispute tha my brother Ian has the charm... he's a rogue when it comes to manners, so lasses, don't lose your heart to his wiles na time soon."

"Ach, get on with ye!" Ian muttered under his breath as she passed by on her way back to her desk.

For the most part the day went like most of the other school days for Frank. Sitting in the front gave him the visual and auditory advantage that he had missed before. He noticed that Ian was giving him curious looks and when they broke for lunch Ian laid his hand on his arm.

"Your na ashamed of being related to us, are ye?"

Frank gave him a blank look. "Ashamed? Of what? What are you talking about?"

"Ye failed to mention that your great aunt is cousin to my grandmother."

"Ohhh. Well, I didn't mention who she was either. Sometimes things have to be kept simple or they sound like - I dunno, weird. Or that it's more information than they needed to know. The teachers all know, as does Mr. Murphy. Ian, while there are some thing from this summer I don't want to remember, having you in the family as well as your sisters and Margarita is seconds to having Ruth as a baby sister."

"Is that a good thing?" Ian asked, curious. "I was none too chuffed when Shauna came about with her green slimy poos that were worse than breathing factory smoke."

"It's a great thing Ian," he said, giving the smaller boy a hug.

Ian sighed as they entered into the lunch room. There was a horrid smell coming from the kitchen but the kids seemed to be excited about what was on the menu. Patty came up behind them. "Aunt Taylor knew you would be feeling tha' way, and packed lunches for us."

"Thats good, but what is it?" he asked, curious.

"Um... meatloaf, I think," said Frank, wrinkling his nose. He saw the puzzled expressions of Patty and Ian as Shauna and Emily came to join them. "What's so wonderful about something that smells like boiled tail?" asked Shauna.

Frank let out a slow breath. "They don't get moo very often. Mostly they get sea food. I guess it's a treat for them, like cornbread. Dad packed for me today too."

"Meatloaf? Of what?" persisted Shauna.

Frank looked at one of the kids with a tray as they passed by. "Its like, um ... Haggis? Except without the sheep's stomach. It has oatmeal in it," he finished.

Ian gave a shudder. "Then Blessings to Aunt Taylor for knowing," he said at last.

Frank looked out the window at the front yard as the students chatted away and had their dinner. something that glinted in the sun caught his attention briefly before he was drawn back to the others talking amongst themselves. It wasn't in English, but from the time he had spent with Willie and Taylor and then with Ian, he understood

what they were saying. He responded, and the group of them were laughing when Molly walked by giving them all a curious look. It prompted a peal of laughter from Shauna. Molly gave them a contemptuous look before storming away. She followed the throng of kids outside to the front where Frank saw her bending over and picking up something in the grass.

Molly sighed. Except for Ian and Frank, no one really knew or cared who she was. People waved to her, but she felt uncomfortable in joining in on the conversations. She hadn't cared before what people thought of her. She had her friends like Lydia, and she could do as she pleased around her mother knowing that her bad behavior would get her what she wanted. It was different now. Her aunt Gretchen had informed her that she had better straighten up because there were far worse places that she could be sent to. While her father had purchased the general store from the bank, he was very weak still and it fell to Gretchen to manage things until he recovered. Her mother had been allowed no contact with her since her arrest in Florida. She would never be able to work as a nurse again, as the theft of narcotics - or any drug, for that matter - was frowned upon. There was a turmoil that Molly felt inside. She missed being the princess. The words that Dr Henderson had said to Molly had shaken her to the core - not that she believed the thing about the dark shadows but that an adult would talk to her like that. No one had ever spoken to her in that tone, with that level of emotion in their voice. Her father's family had always been guarded because anything they said would be dragged into court by her mother. Her father had told her mother that they would have been able to own everything had she not divorced him and taken him to court so many times. She sighed as she scuffed her feet in the grass. She knew what she had done was wrong. She was only out of the jail system because her aunt had said to the courts that she would take her in and work with her. She had probation hearings and meetings with the councilors and they had told her what reality was.

Her foot hit something in the grass. Bending over she saw a square object and picked it up. Some one had dropped their Razor phone. She looked at it blankly - she had one, but it was in her back pack that was still locked in the trunk of her father's car. Cell phones were not allowed at school, and from what she had seen of this backwater town, no one could afford such a phone or the connection anyway. Molly's breath came out in a slow hiss like a tire deflating. She knew her aunt's telephone number, and her grandfather's, and for a moment, looking at the phone, she wanted to call them just to hear their voices. No one would know that she did. She missed them, but she knew the terms of the probation both she and they were on stated that she have no contact with them at all.

The teachers had to know about her *past*. If she handed it in, she would be under suspicion for taking it. But she couldn't keep it. Palming it she walked into the school and down the long row of lockers. 'Let some one else deal with it,' she thought. Hurrying but not so much as to draw attention to herself, she glanced both ways, randomly opened up a locker and thrust the phone into the back pack that hung on the hook.

Belatedly she realized that the other person would be in more trouble than if she had just let it lay or turned it in, but the call of the bell for classes commanded her to enter her classroom. 'I'm just staying out of it,' she thought, 'that's all.' She frowned as she walked to the door. She had passed through metal detectors and they hadn't sounded when she went through them.

Frank took off his glasses and tucked them into his pocket. He had paused to get a sip of water before entering the classroom and water always splashed on them in the process. He felt himself being pulled back by the scruff of his neck and pinned against the lockers while coming nose to nose with the blond-haired upper classman.

"Where is it, shrimp?"

"Where is what?" he asked, looking the young man in the eye. Frank didn't flinch as the blow from a fist cracked across the bridge of his nose. He felt something run from his nose that was warm and wet.

"My Razor," the older boy hissed.

Frank gave him a blank look as he tried to clear his thoughts. "I'm not old enough to shave, what would I be doing with a razor?"

The older boy grasped Frank's wrist and twisted it painfully, leaving a bright angry bruise as his sharp nails dug in and cut Frank's skin. "Its my cell phone, idiot. What did you do with it?"

Frank saw something deep with in the young man's eyes. There was no spark of

kindness or sincerity. This young man was the type of boy that mothers warned their daughters about. Belatedly Frank realized that this was the young man he'd tripped. There were no teachers about, no Mr Murphy to save him. He knew this young man was capable of anything, and feeling no remorse. Something boiled deep inside of Frank as he raised his foot and stamped hard on the upper classman's foot.

_"DAMNU AIR CLADHAIRE! LEANBH DIOMHAOINTIS!_ I'VE HAD ENOUGH _TARBH CAC PEACACH_ FROM YOU!" Frank thundered. Howling in pain the upper classman stepped back far enough to release Frank's arms, giving Frank the chance to push the upperclassman back by the chest. It knocked the older boy back onto his backside, driving the wind from him. Frank stood over him with his hands on his hips. "You are NOTHING compared to what I went through this summer, so DON'T GO THERE! YOU WILL LEAVE ME AND MY COUSINS AND MY FAMILY ALONE, IS THAT UNDERSTOOD? I DON'T KNOW OR CARE WHERE YOUR CELL PHONE IS, TRY THE LOST AND FOUND!" Frank turned and saw two other upper classmen coming closer to him to take him down. "BACK OFF!" he snapped. Startled, they stepped aside.

Breathing hard, Frank went into the classroom and sat down ignoring the curious glances he was given by his classmates. He tried to pick up his pencil and dropped it, unable to hold it due to his hands trembling. He heard Ian's voice far away, and Patty's speaking in the background saying something to the teacher. Frank had

to sneeze. He closed his eyes to do it, and when he opened them he saw Willie. More precisely, he saw Willie beyond something cold and whitish. He realized that he couldn't breath through his nose, there was something sticking to his cheeks.

"How are you feeling, laddie?" asked Willie softly.

"My head hurts," Frank murmured.

"For good reason. You've a busted nose and a cracked cheek bone. Who did this to you, laddie?" Willie brushed Franks short hair with his fingers as Frank looked around. Frank realized he was in the hospital, and the white thing was a latex glove that had ice in it. Shrugging even hurt. "Got away by stepping on his foot," he murmured. The warmth and softness of the covers was too inviting to ignore. Closing his eyes, Frank allowed the bliss to envelope him.

Tipper opened the door to her house and placed the bag of groceries on the table with a wide grin on her face. She had managed for an entire week to not spill any of her groceries on hapless tourists. It had been a long day, seven pets had come in from being sprayed by a family of skunks. Her co-workers found it funny to sing 'Attack of the Killer Tomato" and "Puberty Love" while she helped the owners wash them in tomato juice. While she had rinsed off as much as she could, she knew she had it imbedded in her hair. She was out of cat food, the lads needed their kibble, and the new owners of the grocery store were understanding. A quick shower, fluffy jammies and some instant noodles were called for.

Getting a towel she picked up a fresh bottle of her favorite jasmine shampoo, and strode with purpose into the shower. She could stand under the hot water for a very long time if she could afford the water bills and if her hot water tank would heat enough water. She heard her phone ring as she worked the second lather up in her

hair. She would never eat another tomato again. Sighing she heard the answering machine click on, then as the last of the lather swished down the drain she pulled her warm towel off of the curtain bar and wrapped in it before pulling the curtain aside.

Fighting the urge to scream she grasped the shower bar to keep from falling backwards. On the sink rested a slender silver cell phone that was open and

scrolling through a series of photos in a slide show.

Tipper sat on the edge of the tub trying to breath. The images were of guns and things she could only guess to be worse than guns. Bags of things, white stuff, and plants that she recognized from her herbology studies. She wasn't sure what terrified her the most- the danger that the items were presenting, or the fact that someone was in her bathroom when she was vulnerable. She knew she had locked the doors and had the alarms set on the windows, and had locked the bathroom door just from shear nervousness.

"Fingerprints!" she breathed as she made her way to the hall phone. Her shaky fingers dialed Mort's number and in a few minutes she heard his car pull up to her house.

Mort let out a long breath. He had been at Jessica's letting her know what had happened to Frank at school when the call came in. The kids at Taylor & Willie's had been home bombarding Taylor with the day's events. He heard first hand from Patty how they had heard Frank yelling things in the hallway at someone, and seen him come in bloodied. When he had sneezed and pitched forward Ian had prevented him from hitting his face and had held him when he had fallen out of the chair in a position so he wouldn't choke on his blood. Taylor reassured Patty that the blood would come out of the clothing, and for the girls to get their homework

done before dinner. Mort could see that Margarita had helped the girls unpack their bags and had their books open on the table. They were in and out of the lower area of the house- Margarita took delight in racing about with Shauna and Emily giggling madly, then Shauna and Emily were wound up, and it was all Patty could do to prevent them from stepping on the dog. Taking in a breath Mort had thanked Taylor and went over to Jessica's to let her know what had happened.

He hadn't been there long - well, long enough to calm her down and have her wait

until Willie called to let them know that Frank had been admitted to the hospital. They had packed his nose and sinus area and were waiting for him to wake up. She found it hard to stay put and asked Mort what the children had said Frank had said.

"As far as the children would tell me, it was words that he had been told not to say- that they had been told not to say. The only word that they would repeat was 'Coward.'"

His cell phone rang. Mort sighed as he listened to Tipper tensely saying that a cell phone had shown up while she was in the shower. Sighing, he informed Jessica that he had to go, and that he would keep her updated.

Mort opened his billfold and retrieved the key from the change pouch. Adelle had seen the wisdom of him having a key to Tipper's place. He walked about the perimeter of the house and saw she had a second story window open, but no real access to the window. Walking around again, he did see that the trellises that leaned against the porch was snug enough that a person might climb it to gain access to the porch roof, but they would have to climb up the steep slate roof over and then slide down, and hope they didn't fall to get access to that window. Getting out again would require the balance of a mountain goat. Sighing, he dusted and pulled off two prints from the door and the handle, both which he suspected were Tipper's. Picking the phone up with a pair of latex gloves he slipped it into a plastic evidence bag.

Tipper came into the hallway dressed now in jeans and a plain white t-shirt. She had placed her feet with out socks into Convers tennis shoes and was wiggling into a fleece sweatshirt while Mort dusted the frame for fingerprints.

"Angela, you need to know - Frank was admitted to the hospital about half an hour ago. Someone took a punch at him and busted his nose and his cheek. Willie is with him now."

"Who would do that to him?" she gasped.

Mort shrugged. "Shauna said that an older boy tried to cause problems for Frank this morning during the fire drill. In the mean time, I don't think its a good idea for you to be spending the night here until we have this sorted out. Normally I would suggest Taylor's, or Jessica's, but I don't know how much sleep you would get at Taylor's with all of the kids running about..."

"And Jessica has company for this week..." sighed Tipper.

"Company? Who? I didn't see any one when I was there a while ago."

Tipper bit her lip and closed her eyes. She hadn't meant to let that bit of information slip.

"Inspector Sutherland was to return home after escorting the children to Willie's but was delayed by another issue. Jessica has him staying there while he finishes what he needs to do."

Mort felt himself bristling. "We have the inspector from Scotland Yard fussing about MY Cabot Cove without MY knowledge and YOU knew about it and DIDN'T see FIT to TELL ME?"

"I only found out by accident! It's not to be common knowledge because it can compromise too many things!" she said in a rush of soft words, trying to calm Mort's feelings. It didn't work.

"Compromise? Me?"

"Mort, its NOT about you. You need to be just the same Mort as yesterday and the day before, just like I have to be the same klutzy vet. Don't go looking for him or for answers. You don't know him, you don't know why he is here and you don't go looking for anything else except the Sunday paper under the mat."

"Okay, fine, but what if this -" he held up the cell phone - "has anything to do with what is going on?"

Tipper ran her fingers through her damp hair. "Then our world has ended, Mort."

"Fine. Get a bag, I'm taking you to Seth's."

Tipper shook her head. "To the hospital - you can drop me off there and I can get a ride back."

"Angela, they are only letting family and the doctors in to see him."

"I'm a doctor!" she said, placing her hands on her hips.

"You're a vet!" Mort saw her press her lips together. "All right," he sighed. "I need to speak with him too and see if he can shed some light on what happened."

Tipper and Mort found Willie standing outside of Frank's room regarding an open chart. In the room were Grady and Donna, who was holding Ruth in her arms. Mort had dusted the cell phone for fingerprints, then laid strips of tape over the prints to secure them. He glanced passed Willie and saw Frank was swaddled so that his head wasn't going to move. Willie inclined his head to the side and opened the door to a conference room. He closed the door and began placing x-rays on the light boxes.

"We were able to get a fair number of photos of the damage done to his wrist, and there was an impression of a signet ring in the bone of his cheek," said Willie to both of them as they regarded them. He saw Tipper flinch at the damage that had been done to him.

"How bad is it, Willie?" asked Mort.

For a moment Willie didn't answer. Tipper turned and looked at Mort.

"It looks like the shattered bone punctured the tissue in the brain cavity. He's in danger of infection, and if it had been much more, we wouldn't be in this part of the hospital."

"What kid would do this to another kid?" Mort wondered out loud.

Willie shook his head. "I don't think this was a child that did this to him, Mort. None of the lads at that school weigh more than most angels. There had to be

tremendous energy behind those blows, and a child couldn't do that either. Angela, I understand that you're his friend, but you know the risks of him being exposed to germs at this point. I'd say no to you going in to see him even though I know you wouldn't get any sleep tonight. I also know you've helped Mort in the past, and as this is a crime against a child, any information gathered has to be kept sensitive... the rules and all... I can only allow medical and police staff in his room at this point."

"She's with me," Mort said. "Angela is an acting deputy on this case. If anyone can get Frank to talk about what happened, she can."

Willie regarded the expression on her face before nodding. "All right, just you, and Mort, you will have to wait outside. I will arrange it so you can hear what he is saying at the nurse's desk - we have headsets and recorders."

Dressed in a yellow gown with gloves and her hair up, Tipper entered the room and sat on Frank's bedside. The paper mask was almost too big for her, and it absorbed the tears that slid down her cheeks as she watched him try to move under the restraints they had placed upon him. His wrist was bandaged, his left arm had an IV and a glance informed her that they were giving him something to keep him calm and for the pain. Bending over she lifted a corner of the ice bag on his face and studied the bruise on his cheek. His eye opened up and he focused on her for a moment before he murmured, "Can you cook?"

"I haven't starved to death yet. Instant Noodles au Tipper is the specialty of the house." Wrapping her fingers about his hand her voice dropped. "Who hurt you like this, Frank?"

Frank shrugged. "I don't know. I remember going for some water, and someone talking about shaving, and I don't remember getting hit at all, just feeling- wet. And I remember swearing at him, words that I heard from Willie when he smacked his thumb. I think I stepped on him... and Ian's voice was far away...and I'm here... its pretty bad, isn't it? Mum and dad and you are all crying... am I going to die?"

"We are crying because it hurts us that you have been hurt so. We all die too, you know. We're just not planning on letting you go so soon, okay?"

"Shaving?" mused Willie. He saw Mort shake his head.

"I have to run some prints, Willie. Can you make sure Angela makes it to Seth's tonight? She had someone come into her home while she was there and leave something that is scaring the bejeebers out of both of us."

Willie gave a quick nod. "Aye, and if I learn anything about this person, I will let you know."

George strode into the kitchen bearing twin bags of groceries and placed them on the table. He saw Jessica pacing in the front room with her cell phone tucked to her ear. When she turned he saw the tears on her face. Thoughts of a romantic candlelight dinner slipped from his mind as he went to her and gathered her in his arms. He could feel the soundless sobbing coming from her as she thanked the person and hung up. For the longest time he just held her before she looked up and

said, "Someone hurt Frank, he's in the hospital. All they know is that this person has a signet ring, and that Frank may have injured his foot and he recalls someone saying something about shaving."

"Shaving? Franks not old enough to shave..." he said, puzzled. He felt Jessica place her hand upon his arm. "I know you have other concerns, here in Cabot Cove, but could you help find this person and bring them to justice?" she asked softly.

George had a sinking feeling in his gut that he couldn't explain. Nodding to Jessica he pulled her back in to his arms. His eyes fell upon Jessica's cell phone that she had placed upon the side board.

"Shaving ... indeed..." he mused.

Molly Bishop sat during dinner regarding the stuffed shells on her plate. It was one of her favorite meals, but, she didn't have much of an appetite. Harrison and Gretchen sat across the table talking to each other about how well the store was doing. There were some odd invoices in the files that Gretchen had discovered. She didn't know what they were, but it was a third payment party - the store address was used as a middle man for the transaction, not selling them as product, but receiving income of a modest nature for the use of the address. While it was legal, Gretchen hadn't found the entry for the money in any of the books. Molly knew when the two of them started talking like that any thing she would say would be given a polite look and then they would resume what they were saying.

There were other reasons why she didn't feel like eating. Her seat at school had been by the door and had heard what had been going on in the hall when Frank was hurt. She knew that the older kid was the one who had lost his cell phone was the same cell phone she had found. Frank had been totally innocent of it, and had left a bloodily trail across the class room floor.

"... or for weddings, they would happen infrequently enough, maybe it's something as simple as the fondant for the cakes..."

Molly took a small bite of the shell on her plate before blurting out, "Maybe they were smuggling something and were paying him to keep it in his back room. The shop up the street has a secret area that goes to the basement in it and that was used a couple of years ago for some really bad stuff. I heard about it in school today at lunch time. Maybe there is a secret tunnel that connects all the shops in Cabot Cove that pirates used a long time ago, and they are using them now..."

"Molly, there were no pirates in Cabot Cove..." began Gretchen.

"Why not? they had them in Boothbay. a couple of the islands had Blackbeard the Pirate's treasure buried there, and there is a Spanish galleon in the second harbor of Boothbay just rotting away still where it ran aground. Boothbay is only three miles more up the coast from us so they would have to pass by here..."

"Honestly, Molly! Where on earth do you think of these stories?" said Gretchen, shaking her head.

Molly shrugged. "I have a healthy imagination that I get from my Dad," she said finally. Molly looked between the two adults. She saw Gretchen was puzzled, and Harrison was pressing his lips together and regarding her in a particular fashion. "How else could Dad be able to take nothing worth much and make all those things that sit around in museums ?.. May I finish this later? I'm really not that hungry now." she said as her hand went to her seat to push it back. Harrison nodded. Molly sighed then slid out of the chair and went to the kitchen where she wrapped the plate and slid it into the refrigerator. She could hear the low murmurs in the dining room. They hadn't ignored her. That was interesting. The idea of smugglers or pirates intrigued her, and while she had spent some time at the shop, she hadn't really done any thing to really look around. Looking around the kitchen she went back into the dining room with the pot of coffee and two cups for them, and then took the plates out to wash them in the kitchen sink. Her homework was done; with the dishes and her chores done there would be just a bit of daylight to go down to that shop on Oak Street and see if she could find out anything more about the hidden room.

Maybe time in Cabot Cove wouldn't be as dull as she thought...

Molly walked onto the front porch and looked down at the hollow sound her feet made as she crossed to the steps. She stopped. She didn't remember seeing steps down to any cellar, but they had to have one. She went down the steps and around the exterior of the building. Yes, there were several windows that just peaked above the line of the land - the large glass blocked ones. Once around she noticed there was no storm cellar door, though there were stone rails as if there had been one it looked like it was filled in with dirt or something.

Coming around to the front of the house she saw Mort get out of his car and begin up the walk way. She froze. She thought about bolting for the cover of the bushes. Something compelled her to stand her ground as he came up to her and sighed.

"Am I in trouble?" she asked softly.

Mort sighed again. "That remains to be determined. What can you tell me about this?" he asked, pulling the phone still in the plastic evidence bag out of his pocket to hold in front of her.

"I didn't use the phone to call my aunt or grandpa. I just found it, and I knew that if I turned it in the person who it belonged to would get in trouble because we aren't allowed to have cell phones in school, so I just - I just put it in somebody's book bag and walked away. I didn't want to get involved."

"You weren't tempted to keep it yourself?" he asked, curious.

Molly gave him a blank look. "I have my own pink Razor, why would I want an old silver one? You can't get any signal with them up here, only the reds and the indigos have the best range."

"A pink what?" inquired Mort, perplexed.

"A pink Razor. They call them that because they are thin. Mine's locked up in the trunk of my dad's car along with my video games until he feels its the proper time for me to have them."

"You know that Frank Fletcher was hurt today after lunch," Mort began. He watched as Molly swallowed and nodded. Her eyes became troubled. "Anything you want to tell me about what happened?"

"I sit by the door, and I heard him at the water fountain, and some older guys came up and asked Frank about the Razor, and he didn't have it. And Frank starts saying things - weird like and he is yelling them at the guys, and he comes in and blood is going everywhere and he sits down, and then he doubles over and Ian catches him before he falls and Patty is helping Ian to try and stop the blood... he didn't

do anything to that kid. Why were they so mean about it? And what are they going to do to me?"

" Molly, where did you find it?" Mort asked gently.

"It was after lunch, I went out onto the front lawn and I saw something in the grass and I went to it and picked it up. I put it in the kids back pack and walked away. "

"Do you know which kid, or the grade they were in?" Mort pressed.

Molly shook her head. "They were the littler lockers though, for the first and second graders, and the back pack was pink." Molly heard the click of the screen door as Gretchen came out.

"Hello Sheriff, would you like to come in? You're in time for dessert..."

"Ah, that sounds tempting, Ms. Bishop, but I have to get back to the station house. Molly was just answering a few questions about school today. One of her classmates was hurt."

"Oh, I hope they will be all right," Gretchen said sincerely.

"So do I... Good evening," he said, tipping his hat to Molly and nodding to Gretchen.

Molly watched him walk away, then yelled "WAIT!" and began to run after

him.

Mort paused. "Yes?"

He saw Molly hesitate. "Look, I don't know if this is important or not, but, the metal detectors that we walk through on the door near the gym didn't go off when I went through them with that thing. They should have, because at my other school we had the same thing and they would know when we were bringing our cell phones in- they weren't allowed there either."

Mort took a deep breath as he remembered the images that had been in the phone's memory. He looked at Molly then up at Harrison and Gretchen. "Mr. Harrison, would you allow your daughter access to her pink Razor so she can show me how they work?"

Harrison nodded and got the key for the car.

Tipper tossed her bag on the spare bed at Seth's house before bending over and using a flashlight to peek under the bed itself. She jumped slightly when she heard Seth say behind her, "No monsters under there for a good forty years, Tipper."

"Really? How did you get rid of them?" she asked, straightening up and turning to sit on the bed. She saw the look of bemusement in his eyes.

"Gave them all names. Had my daughter draw them if she could remember

what they looked like, and that made them easier to manage." Seth handed her a mug of tea. "Willie was telling me about some of the odd things that were happening at Mithers, why the girls came... I'm not saying its one of them. It could be an escaped monkey from the traveling circus that is the intruder. Mort did find odd small finger smudges on your door that matched the phone, but not fingerprints. Look, I know you're pretty wired up, but we both need our sleep. It's

almost nine, and dawn will come in about seven hours."

"I know... I just feel- twitchy," she said, taking a sip of the tea. Surprised at the taste she looked up at Seth.

"A hot toddy seemed the best thing to have. I would suggest that you change for bed before you finish it."

Mort felt very cross-eyed by the time the lesson was finished with Molly. There were terms that he did understand like the GPS location system, and phantoms- Bluetooth, the ability to link two phones together and have both phones get the same information. The phones could talk to each other as well - they were, in effect, computers. She showed him how to send files, and then how to erase the sent files record. For a moment she looked at her phone, and remembered what Frank looked like. She was involved. She could have just ignored the phone and he

would be okay. It wasn't that she owed him anything- She was suddenly concerned about her own self preservation. She slid the phone over to Mort.

"Look, you need one, like this, and you need it right away. I'm not using it, and I don't want to end up like Frank. What I don't understand is why he said he had had enough. Enough what?"

Studying her upturned face Mort, said softly. "My guess is that he'd had enough of his life being placed in what he calls 'Mortal Peril.'" He saw Molly give him a curious look before continuing. "Maybe when he gets out of the hospital you can ask him yourself."

Back peddling Molly shook her head "Oh, no. He wouldn't want to talk to me. They hate me."

Reaching over to her Mort caught her chin in the cup of his hand. "I know both of the boys pretty well. They are not the type to hold grudges, nor have they ever said they hated you, or anyone. Its not in their nature."

"That's too weird," she said raising her eyebrow. Looking at him straight in the eye she asked, "You can't promise me that I will be safe, can you?" Mort shook his head.

"Thank you," he said, pocketing both of the phones. Taking a breath he stood up. "I have to run some things, to get this sorted out. If you think of any thing else let me know." Mort nodded to both Gretchen and Harrison before Harrison walked him to the front door.

"You will let us know if you hear anything about the Fletcher boy, won't you Sheriff? "

Mort nodded. He had one more place to go before he would head home. Frowning, he wondered if the advice Tipper gave him was related to his current investigations. He knew what he had was evidence, and tampering with it was something that would blow the case if it was what he suspected. There was way too much spy gadgetry in the world, things that could track phones and their users, things that could listen in on conversations. The amount of weapons seen in the photos could blow away Cabot Cove. He knew George wasn't there on official business that he could speak about. Mort had to get his concerns known to him one way or the other. If he couldn't trust George…" Mort sighed and shook his head. Using the edge of his thumb he pushed the power button on the cell phone. If these people didn't stop at harming a child to get the phone… they wouldn't care about harming whom ever got in their way. Laying the phones end to end he keyed in the command to copy the files and photos from the other cell phone on to Molly's. Taking a breath he pulled out his pocket knife and opened the back of the silver phones battery. A flick of his wrist made the blade come in contact with the battery shorting it out. That would buy them some time…

Knowing that Willie was still at the hospital made the trip to Taylor's an opportunity for him to reflect on what he was going to say in a way that Jessica couldn't say no.

Ten minutes later his car was snuggled along Taylor's house and he was explaining to Jessica that he needed to borrow Taylor and Oliver for a few hours and would she mind watching the children until Willie came home? Jessica looked down at the earnest faces of the children.

"You have a lead?" she asked, curious.

Mort shrugged. "We are going back to the school to see if we can find what Frank was talking about. It gives Oliver a chance to be trained with out distractions

as well. "

Jessica's eyes spoke for her - `You owe me, Mort,' they said. Mort leaned in and gave Jessica's cheek a kiss. "Brandied rhubarb," he murmured. Her eyebrows raised before giving him a nod. She realized he knew more than he could say.

Mort and Taylor were at the school before Mr. Murphy was. Taking a breath he took the silver Razor from his pocket and paced off to where Molly said she had found it. He had removed and carded all of the fingerprints and slid them in an envelope with the pink Razor then cleaned all traces of fingerprints off of the phone. With his handkerchief he dropped it, then gave it a kick so that it would be

found further away, as if it had been kicked by accident by the students after the assembly.

Taylor gave him a curious look. "Its going to rain, you know…" she said, looking up at the sky.

Mort nodded. "Yeah. From what I learned, you can dry these things out by keeping them for two days in instant rice- and then recharge them, which is what I am hoping these kids think when they get the phone back, but the battery they have is shot, and that will take another day for them to figure out. It buys us time, even if it gets us only a day more."

"What if this is bigger than what a day will bring us?"

"That scares me as much as it does you Taylor… Now, lets see what this little lady can do…"

Tipper looked down at her bunny slippers and slipped them on her feet. While Seth had said she needed her sleep, and she knew she did, she just didn't feel ready. She had stayed away from the lads before and they normally would hide if there were strangers there - it was just odd. Pulling her fluffy robe about her thin shoulders she

sighed and took the mug with her down to where she knew Seth was – sitting with his feet propped up in his recliner.

His eyebrows rose at her entry to his library. "You are too big for me to carry you to bed, young lady…"

"I'm too wired Seth, you know that. You are too or you would be in bed as well. Mort didn't find any fingerprints on the doors, or the windows or the door knobs, and even on that thing. How is that possible?"

Flipping his book over onto his lap, Seth regarded her. "You don't go fishing, do you?" Tipper shook her head. "Well, one of the things I learned when I was taking my daughter fishing was, to always let them tie the lines and hook the bait on. They tend to catch the biggest fish as well, because of this singular fact. Children, very small children, don't have the oils in their hands that the adults do, and while they do have finger prints, they tend not to leave any. My guess is your intruder is a very small child."

"But how are they getting in? Everything is locked up!" Tipper said, sipping her tea slowly. She watched as Seth gave her a cat-who-ate-the-canary grin.

"Everything except the cat door that you had put in last spring. Adults who go into caves practice climbing through tennis rackets that have no strings on them. They can fit in holes that are 18 inches across. A very small child can fit in a hole that is 6 inches across, about the size of you cat door."

"Why?" Why me?" Tipper asked feeling the effects of the toddy making her body feel heavy. She yawned and looked down at her mug.

"That I can't answer. But what you have been going through hasn't just been about these last few nights, has it?"

Tipper regarded him a long time. Her eyes dropped down to the cup before she spoke. "I'm not going mad if that's what you mean. By accounts the three of us should be in therapy for ages…I keep having dreams I can't explain. Dreams that terrify me and that I can't remember exactly what is going on later."

Taylor watched as Mr. Murphy opened up the doors to the school. While it was true that she had only had Oliver for a short time, the little dog was very bright and needed to - do – things all the time. The search game was something that Oliver enjoyed the most- Sydney had been more- general in what she could search for, even with out having the special collar on. Some dogs, could do that- search for anything that was in the range of what they had been trained for. Some dogs were specific, like Oliver - you had to show them what you were looking for and they would find it. In the time that she had been training Oliver, she had only managed to find two things at the same time. Three or more she sat back and gave Taylor the look of "you have got to be kidding."

George had been very helpful with acquiring small samples of the scents for her. It wasn't often that one had access to C4 or some of the opiate scents. There were two things to consider in regards to what Mort was doing. One he didn't have a search warrant. Anything that he might find, in asking to search the building would be inadmissible in court. The second was, by approaching this as an innocent trial for what her dog could be trained to do with out distractions and then finding the items by accident could be admitted into the courts as a "in plain sight" rule as they would have Mr. Murphy there to open the lockers or where ever to see why Oliver would be responding. The janitor, Mr. McKee, wouldn't be at the school until about 2 am.

Hiding her grin Taylor noticed right away that Mort caught the metal detector didn't sound when they walked through the door. Opening up a panel on the side with his key, Mr. Murphy frowned. Some of the wires had been disconnected. His upward glance at Mort spoke volumes. It took a moment to re attach the wires, and to recalibrate the system for that alarm. A quick check of the other metal sensors showed that two others of the eight had been deactivated in the same way.

"These all worked a week ago," Mr. Murphy said grimly.

"Who all has a key like that to access the panel?" inquired Taylor curiously.

Mr. Murphy sighed. "They are all standard. Every shop or business that uses this type of sensor array has the same key as far as I know. There may even be a reason why they were deactivated, sometimes they do when they are cleaning the floors because the power cord sets them off continually. " He fixed Mort with an even look "Though, I suppose it won't hurt to be prudent," he said finally. The three of them moved to the gymnasium.

Oliver was instantly alert when the little rubber ducky squeaked. She sat back for a moment, and then went to Mort and barked twice. Perplexed, Mort looked at Taylor, who was giggling. "She says you have gun oil on you. Give her a pat and tell her she's a good girl." Mort bent over and was rewarded by a tongue lick deep into his nose.

"Errph… Good girl," Mort managed, wiping his face. Taylor squeaked the rubber duck again. Oliver returned to her, then circled about her feet as if to say "Lets go then!" With a swish of her tiny backside she lead the way into the locker rooms and to where the weight lifting area was. This didn't surprise Taylor as many of the machines had the same oil on them as the guns would. The switchblade that she dragged out from an open corner of a kick plate did surprise Mr. Murphy though, who dutifully placed it in a plastic bag and then tagged it before dumping it in the evidence box. They knew, as every student used all of the lockers, finding something in them would be remote. To Mr Murphy's relief the classrooms and the hall lockers were clear. Once in a while Oliver would stop and sneeze, tilt her head with a puzzled expression then continue. It was only after reminding Oliver what she was looking for (being delighted that she smelt the kids she knew in the classes, their seats verified by Mr. Murphy) that she came to the spot where Frank had been hurt. Oliver backed away a few times, shivering, then sitting back on her

haunches gave a mournful howl. Her nose positively pressed into the tile before she started off in a different direction leading back the way they had come. She doubled back, then returned to a locker and stopped before giving a unusually deep growl in her throat.

"Mr. Murphy, who's locker is this?" asked Mor,t curious, watching as Mr. Murphy flipped through the pages was an agonizingly slow process.

"Brad Jamison," he said softly, then noticed that Oliver was pulling at her lead to go further down the hall to come to a stop at a set of lockers that had small screws through the opening for the locks so they were made fast. She gave the same unusual deep growl in her throat. Mort stopped Mr. Murphy from touching the locker until he had a chance to pull out a fingerprint kit and go over the locker on the outside and secured the prints that he found. It took a second for Mr. Murphy to open it and lift the latch to open the door. Oliver sneezed.

"Oh my," Mr. Murphy gasped at the sight of the locker filled with plastic totes containing all sizes of guns and ammunition.

Mort regarded Taylor "Why didn't Oliver find these? We were passed this locker a few times already…" Oliver sneezed again.

"Good girl!" Taylor said, patting her head. "She did, Mort. She's sneezed quite a few times in our travels. She smelt something she couldn't identify, and that it irritated her nose. You tell me, though - we were testing on gun oil, and she passed even in things that were triple sealed. What would make these guns any different?"

Mort looked at the containers. "Graphite. They are new, and haven't been cleaned yet, they were packed in graphite. The dogs are trained to search for oils, and explosives. Because machine parts are packed in graphite too, the dogs don't search those containers, its difficult for them to smell for a rock. Its used in pencils, in art

supplies…" he said shrugging.

"She only sneezed at certain places though," said Mr. Murphy thoughtfully.

Mort glanced at Mr. Murphy as he flipped open his cell phone. " Hello dear… yes, still at the school… I need you to call dispatch, and let them know there won't be school tomorrow- we've a problem with the electrical system… yes, they will let the parents know. Thank you dearest… No, I don't know when I will be back…Love you." He closed his phone and sighed. "She once pointed out to me that the school has enough light from the windows for the children to do their home work. Finding, things like this on school property isn't new to me Sheriff, it's the first time though that the reason of seeing what a new dog can do though has been used to voice concern. You knew that there was something here…"

"I suspected we might find something. The thing is, this isn't school age kids doing this. Frank trusts you, and that's good enough for me. I've seen things happen in this town where I have learned to question who to trust, and when. "

"Well, you now have probable cause to search the school Sheriff, with my permission."

A delightful warmth enveloped Tipper as she slid her toes in the sandy beach. The sun warmed her shoulders and she felt incredibly lazy as she strolled among the dunes. She could hear low notes flittering across the sand and with curiosity followed it. Giggles came from behind her. She stopped and turned to see the children running, playing tag as they came down the path to the beach. "We're

going to swim in the water and look for pirate treasure," said Ian as he passed by her. It took a second for what he had said to register in her brain. "NO WAIT!" Tipper yelled. "COME BACK! COME BACK! THE TIDE'S TOO STRONG!" It felt like she was running in quick sand but she managed to follow them over the dune to stand in shock. The warmth of the day had changed to bitter cold, so cold that the sea water had frozen solid in mid-wave.

Only Margarita stood on the beach holding a small three holed reed flute in her hand. Tipper raced to her and scooped her into her arms. "Where are the others?" she asked. Margarita turned and pointed towards a cliff face that had replaced the dunes.

"Mommy ..."

Tipper turned her head back to Margarita who offered her the flute. There was a resounding crack as the sea broke through the ice. Tipper clung to Margarita and screamed as the wave came crashing down upon them.

Strong arms caught her, pulled her up, held onto her as she clung to Margarita. Someone shook her gently and the pain behind her eyes lessened as the lights dimmed slightly. She was able to open her eyes and make out Seth's face. He was sitting on her bed holding her as she sat up in bed clutching her pillow and blanket in her fists.

"You left your window open child and the rain came in." he gently, brushing her damp hair to the side. "I heard you call out, and scream…" He saw Tipper shake her head.

"No – no I didn't, Seth…" she said softly. Opening her hand up she lifted it to him. In her palm lay a small three hole flute made from a reed.

`This is not the evening I had in mind,' thought George as he watched the girls and Jessica wash the dishes from the evening meal. Even the littlest one, Margarita, was focused enough to dry the silver ware as she sat on the counter. It had taken just one call to the hospital for George to know that the events that he had so carefully planned for were just a fleeting dream. He had already had to admonish the smallest of the sisters for using his pipe to blow bubbles and the littlest one was finding every single cubby hole to hide in when they weren't watching her.

"It's just ONE CHILD, George, you're the chief inspector for Scotland Yard, how hard is it to keep an eye on her?"

They would run the kids through their bath, and then as there was no hope of `sigh' evening tallies – tucking them in. With the exhaustion of watching them, Jessica would be asleep in a thrice. Settling with his newspaper in front of him the children mingled while Jessica told them stories about the cove.

"We could be staying back at our own house, Aunt Jessica if your not wanting us here," said Ian, folding the last of the laundry for her.

"Good heavens, why would you think that?" Jessica said perplexed. She watched as Ian turned and glanced over his shoulder at George who was sipping his coffee.

"Well, its plain to us that the inspector would rather be on the box with you than listen to the girls singing their letters."

Jessica looked between George who had spat a fountain of coffee unexpectedly from his lips projecting it to the newspaper, then back to Ian.

George was about to admonish Ian for such language in front of his aunt when the back door opened and Emily came in soaking wet.

"My goodness, child! What were you doing out there?" asked Jessica.

Emily cast a glance at Ian then Jessica.

"I heard my Da calling me," she said simply. George watched as Jessica fussed over Emily and knew, with a pang, that Jessica would have made a wonderful mother.

He was about to re light his pipe when Patty came in and pulled the newspaper down from where he was hiding behind it. "Where is Margarita?" she asked him, fixing him with a gaze that spoke volumes.

"Hiding no doubt," he said with a twitch of the paper to remove it from her grasp.

"She's not, I've checked all the places that she should be and the front door is unlatched. Didn't aunt Jessica say for you to keep an eye on her while we dried off Emmie?"

George blinked several times - yes, Jessica had. The evening was shot- and he knew Jessica would be most unhappy.

"She can't be far away," he said, trying to keep the irritation from his voice as he shrugging giving the paper a tug again.

"Ye never ha to chase after her when she bolts, she could be three miles from here and into anything. She doesn't know any better of what not to do! She could be on the docks right this instant or near the train tracks or up a tree – or worse. What if she fell into one of your gutter openings with this rain?"

A flicker of a conversation that he had with Mither came back floating in George's head. Leaning forward he came nose to nose with Patty before asking softly. "There are things that your not telling me. You do have a fair idea of why she does this- it's not a game to her, is it? "

Patty gave his shoulders a push back. `SHE IS A WEE CHILD! SHE DOESN'T KNOW BETTER THAN NOT TO RUN AWAY!"

Jessica entered into the room and glanced between Patty and George. "Good gracious, what's all this about?"

She saw Patty turn and give her an exasperated look. "The inspector let Margarita out of his sight an now she's gone outside somewhere, and he is disinclined to look for her."

George saw Jessica's back stiffen as she straightened up. `Damn,' he thought. `The Hill House would have been a safer place to be just then.'

Patty's hand covered Jessica's as she reached for the phone to notify Mort of the missing child. "Na, the met would be saying tha' we can't care for our own if we let them know she's missing."

Jessica looked again at George who had moved from his seat in one motion and was striding across the living room in three steps to get his trench coat. Jessica stopped him. "No George, you don't know the town, even in the dark, and she won't come to you. You stay with the children and I will go out to look for her."

George sighed, and handed his trench coat to Jessica. "It's large enough to cover both of you…" he said, eyeing the other children.

Ian came forward with a flash light. "She likes to go up things, and down things. Do you want me to come with you?" He watched as Jessica shook her head. "Stay with your sisters." Stepping onto the front porch Jessica looked into the pouring rain. She didn't have a clue to start with of where this child would have gone off to. Closing her eyes she listened to the rain , and any other sounds that were not familiar. In the distance she heard the low tones of some wind instrument. She knew it wasn't the wind blowing across the top of the chimneys, it was something else. Holding her breath, she listened. `I know that song,' she thought to herself as she turned into the direction that the wind was blowing. Panting at the top of the hill Jessica looked around. She didn't see anyone, and the mysterious tones of the wind instrument had ended. She stopped under the shelter of a tree and turned off her flash light. She could hear the faint bells signaling midnight in the cove. The tones could have been from anything- some one practicing for the school band, a radio, anything. Somehow though, her gut feeling told her to follow the tones, that she would find her answer. Her breathing was ragged. She wasn't young, and she had the return trip home - thankfully it was down hill, but it didn't answer where Margarita was. If there was a place to sit down, Jessica would have done it, just to

have a good cry. `If anything happened to that child…'

Something touched her arm. Jessica fought the urge to scream and jump back – her eyes flew open and focused on Willie standing regarding her with a patent look on his face.

"The others told me that you had gone after Margarita, and I know what your hearing, and feeling Jessica. She is close. We just have to call her in." Willie smiled and then putting his hand up to his lips he cupped it and then blew through it. A pure tone issued from him trilling in the night and joining the rain in a dance across the street. Jessica realized that it was the song of a night bird. She was about to ask him what he meant about calling her in, when an answering trill came from high above them and down the street. She was about to step out into the rain again to go after her when Willie held her back and shook his head. He blew out another trill of

notes, and after a silence, the answering trill was closer.

If Jessica had blinked, she would have missed Margarita stepping out from the trees and walking barefoot across the grass keeping to the bushes. She stopped and regarded Jessica, then Willie who lowered his hand and held one out to her. Willie's words were gentle, and after a backwards glance down the street, she went to him. Willie opened his coat and as he lifted her up, she wrapped her thin arms and legs about him so that he could wrap his woolen coat about her small frame.

"She only knows what she has heard all her life- the songs of the animals outside. She is trying to communicate the only way she knows how, and we haven't got the grasp of it yet. If by chance she speaks a word, it will only be as a parrot would, with no meaning behind it," murmured Willie softly.

Jessica regarded the young child. "She's almost as muddy as when we first found her…Willie, why were the children sent over? Surely they knew Taylor would be having her own time with her triplets…"

In silence Willie walked down the street, not answering Jessica's question. He finally stopped and looked at Jessica. "I don't know the workings of a woman's mind, that's all I can say."

They walked in silence to the house where George opened the door. The children had their baths, and were waiting up, or trying to, in the front room. Ian had such a serious look on his face, Jessica was about to ask him what was wrong, but the bustle of getting Margarita into the tub to wash her up, and then into bed cloths took her attention. George marched the children up to the spare room where the girls slipped in under the covers in a pile, and Ian curled on the far side of the bed with Margarita snugged in beside him. Glancing at the clock Jessica saw that it was 2 am. She stood in the door frame watching the children one by one submit to the slumbers of sleep.

George leaned in and kissed her shoulder. If anything could be salvaged of this night, he would have to be in her good graces. She looked back at him as his arm snuck around her thin waist. She was cold, and tired and wrung out from worry. Her delicate eyebrow rose slowly as her eyes looked for answers in his.

`Brandied Ruebarb,' Mort had said to her. She had offered that as a bribe to him to give her time to talk with Taylor when Earl had been found murdered. Mort's message to her was clear. He suspected something of a man that she dearly loved, and was asking her for the chance to clear his name, with out interruption. If this was Charlie Garrett or Denise Stanton, she could have understood. She longed to

cup George's face in her hands and ask him, "What aren't you telling me," but she knew that if it was an investigation that he couldn't, and if it wasn't, if it was because he had turned out to be a scoundrel, she would have to have the strength within to, well, be strong as she had been with Preston, as much as it would break her heart.

She laid her hand on his and said softly "I'm going to duck through the shower to get warm, and then I will be down. Could you make some tea for Willie and me? I didn't get a chance to speak with him about Frank, and it looks like it may be a while before Taylor is home…" George nodded and kissed her cheek.

Jessica stepped into her room and then gathering her things went into the bathroom where she closed the door and saw George's trench coat fall with a thud. She sighed. Willie had taken George's trench coat and hung it on the back door. Bending over she picked it up and re hung it on the hanger as something fell to the floor by her feet.

Ian wiggled his toes in the bed. They had been allowed to sleep themselves out - the girls weren't up yet, and he didn't want to get up. He knew, from the call that George had taken, that there was a problem with the electrical system at the school, and they had the day off. He thought that odd. If there was, then Aunt Taylor would be home in a thrice, unless they are working Oliver in the dark.

He could just be lazy and sleep in bed all day. He had heard George speaking to Willie, though, while they waited for Aunt Jessica to get out of the shower. The `I'll have a word with him' told Ian that he had skirted on shear ice.

Tucking the covers about Margarita he slid out of the bed and lowered his feet to the floor. The cold wood made him curl his toes about as he walked silently across the floor to where his cloths were. He needed time to think. Dressing quickly he went down the steps as light as he could and glanced about. Every one was asleep. He knew he had to tell them where he was going, there would be hell to pay if he

didn't. Taking Jessica's note pad he wrote. "Gone to think," then left it on the table and went out the back door down the path to where the shop was.

The floors needed a proper sweeping, and the looms dusted off. Ian did that as their chores every week, and with school it would have had to wait to a Saturday. Grasping the broom he began to make quick work of it while nibbling on a square of traveling bread that Willie kept in a tin. He had no idea how he would be punished. He knew they wouldn't deprive him of food, and he didn't think they were the sort to whip children. They might shun him. He had seen that happen with many families back home, the invisible child. Ian closed his eyes and fought back

blurred tears. Putting the broom aside he sat down on the steps and hugged himself as sobs shook through his body.

Molly woke early. The call that her dad got the night before let her know she had one day of freedom to explore the thoughts that had come to her so suddenly. Snatching her back pack she emptied out the books and went to the bathroom where she found the flash light, and a small first aid kit. The kitchen yielded food, and several water bottles. She had no idea how long she was going to be away

exploring. She knew to leave a note, then left it on the table she went out closing the door behind her and walked up the street to where the shop was she had read about having the secret room. Maybe she could convince the shop owners for her to see it; at the very least she could find out what she could and then see if it applied to the shop her dad owned.

She was a bit out of breath when she reached the front porch and the sign said closed. But there was a light on inside. Taking a breath, she reached out and turned the knob. It opened and with a gentle creak allowed her in. She had never been in that shop before and it came as a shock to see the giant looms and the displays. She closed the door behind her and heard quiet sobbing coming from the corner. Curious, she went over and recognized Ian. She was about to blurt out "Cry baby!" when she realized she didn't see any adult about, the shop was supposed to be closed, and the abject misery that he was going through was very real. Molly dug in her pocket and pulled out a wadded up tissue and pushed it in his hand. When he glanced up she saw fear, and sorrow and the greatest pain in the world.

"What's wrong?" she asked curiously. `Know others weaknesses' her mother had told her once.

"Nothing you would understand." He said gulping back his tears.

"Try me." She said fixing him with a steady gaze.

"You wouldn't." he said shaking his head. "Your mum an da both love you, so much that they both are fighting the world for you to be with them. My da's dead, and my mum couldn't wait to be rid of me an the girls so that she could have a new family. Widows with a brood never are married off, but a tragic widow, with a wee new babe … 'Ian,' she said, 'you're a right man now, and your old enough to take your work place in the world and not be hanging on my skirt. You'll go to your uncles, and mind him for your craft, or it will be the work house for you.' Well, off I was packed and now I've said some wrong things, and there is ether shunning or the work houses for me."

Molly shook her head. "They have child labor laws here, they don't make you go to work houses. The most parents do here is ground their children," she said with a shrug.

"They bury them in the ground?" sputtered Ian backing away.

Molly giggled. "No, they take away toys, or send them to their room to think about

what they have done. Your only ten."

Ian let out a gusty sigh. "I'm still a man."

"Do you hate your mum for packing you off here?" Molly asked, sitting down on the steps beside him and cracking open a water bottle before handing it to him. "Drink- your body chemistry gets funny after you cry, and it helps," she said in a matter-of-fact tone.

Ian nodded, took a few sips of the water and handed the bottle back to her. "Drink yourself too, your drenched in perspiration."

Molly was about to refuse on the ground of germs and cooties, but she also understood his wisdom. She saw him let out some air.

"No, I don't hate her, I understand why she did it. In her heart, deep down, it's probably breaking every day as much as ours are. I sometimes think after da died she went a bit mad with grief. Emmie keeps going outside, saying she hears Da calling, like he did when he was coming home from work. She doesn't believe he's gone. They never were able to sort through the bodies to find everyone – the factory burned for four days before they could get the fire under control. "

Blinking a few times and trying to digest this information Molly blurted, "Well, they must not have had safe conditions if it just caught on fire." She turned to look at him and saw a pained look on his face as he sighed.

"Na, lass, the factory was safe enough, they just stitched up knickers. Some one put several bombs in the factory in a shipment and rigged the place to go up at the same time at every corner. They locked the doors with chains so the workers couldn't get out. Mum would ha been there too if she hadn't been ill with the baby. When the sirens went off, and we heard the explosion, something broke in her. She went down like a load of coal and started to scream. She knew what it was."

Molly handed him the water bottle again, nodding for him to drink from it. "Who would do that?" she inquired in a hushed voice.

Ian swallowed some of the water then pushed the cap back down on it. "The same people who stuff nails and bits of glass in pipe bombs to toss into our playground while we were out at recess." For a moment she thought he was joking, then she remembered how Shauna and Emily looked when Frank brought them together. Compressing her lips she waited for a moment letting him breath more at an even rate.

She saw he was puzzled by something and he looked at her. "So, why are you in here? The shop sign said closed."

`Come right out and tell the truth- ` she thought to herself. "Well, I was reading that some of the old buildings here in Cabot Cove have secret rooms, this building has one that the former shop owner had used to hid really bad stuff until they were caught, and I know the shop where my dad owns is pretty close in age and almost identical in construction, and I was wondering if I could see where its at, and then I could see if the shop had one as well. My Aunt Gretchen found some invoices and they have that the other owner had been getting money for something that wasn't sold, just delivered, and well I was thinking maybe he was a smuggler or something, or if the pirates used them to hide their gold when they docked here. Wouldn't you like to find some pirate's treasure?"

She saw Ian shake his head. "Na. Gold is not what makes the world, nor keeps families together. I will show you what you ask, and as well, what I learned from my cousin on finding hidden walls. Then I ha' to go back to my aunt and uncle and face what is coming to me."

Ian stood up and walked to the back of the store. Molly could see that there were steps to the basement off on one side of where they had the kitchen, and with interest watched as he ran his fingers about the wall until it came to a thin vertical seam where the two sections of wood joined. Giving it a push inward with his fingertips there was an audible click and the door swung open.

"You should know, the person to have unraveled what you read about was my Aunt Taylor, and Sydney," he said as he reached in for the light switch. Ian saw the puzzled expression on her face.

"Who's Sydney?"

Ian let the air out from his lungs in a soft sigh. "Sydney was her dog, the one that died. When my aunt knew the district attorney in California, Sydney was trained to sniff out all sorts of things, and was trained as not only a police dog, but as a companion dog – she used to take her about to the hospital children's wards. Aunt

Taylor's training a new dog now, but the dog is a bit of a silly git. It digs through its food bowl thinking there's something better at the bottom of it."

Flicking on the light Ian was about to go down the steps when he heard something. Curious, he looked down ward and blocked the way for Molly to follow as he went down a few steps to look into the area below.

He had heard water. As his eyes adjusted to the different light he saw that the area of the floor below had a fair amount of water in it and that it was coming from a section of the wall on the far side near the hill. "This isn't good," he said, taking a breath before backing up and going to the door where the cellar was. It took a quick glance down there to show that the cellar, a room that was higher than the second cellar, was still dry. "I have to let my uncle know about this," he said, going back up the steps. He looked around for Molly and found her in the second cellar looking at the wall where the water was coming from. "What is it?" he asked,

curious. "Come up here, its not safe down there, you don't know where the water's from an' it can make you sick if it's got odd things in it."

"I was looking at the wall, where its coming in - it looks like a door."

"One that has a lot of water behind it. Come back up here you silly goose," he sighed.

Reluctantly Molly returned up the steps. Ian saw a look come over her face and raised his eyebrow. "I know what your thinking lass, an you need to think about this. If your Da's shop is anything like this one, aye, it will have the same second basement as this one. But it will also have more water in it than you can deal with because its lower than this one on the hill from all of the rain that we had last night. Aye, there may be a hidden tunnel, or a door where your thinking, but some things, should be left buried. I know my Aunt doesn't ha enough towels to take up all of this water, he mumbled, shaking his head. "Best you be waiting outside when my uncle comes down here. Your too young to hear what he will be saying by a long

sort."

"Can't be worse than anything that *I* have ever said," she giggled. She gave him a nod then went out to the main area with him. "Doesn't the fire company use water? They would know how to get it out of that area," she said.

Striding to the phone Ian picked it up, his slim fingers worked the dial and he waited until he heard a voice on the other end. "Hullo, I'm Ian McAvery, an I'm at my uncles shop on Oak Street, the one that does the loom weaving, an' we have more than my height of water in our second basement an' mores coming in from the wall. Canna ye help us get it out?"

Molly saw Ian nod, his face troubled. "Aye, I can do that.. thank ye." He hung up the phone and turned to her. "They said there is bound to be more water coming. We aren't the only ones that have it going wrong this morning and they will be here when they can."

"Then we have to let your uncle know, and get what ever is in the first basement up don't we? If the water is up past you, and that second basement is only six feet higher than the other one, you have two feet of time before it goes into the other space."

Closing his eyes for a second Ian took in a deep breath and picked up the phone. It picked up on the third ring. In a way, Ian was relieved it was Patty who answered it.

"Where are ye? Uncle was in a right state when he found your note an he had to go back to the hospital. Frank's na doing well an he took Aunt Jessica with him. The inspector ha to go out for a tich and I'm dealing with Shauna an' Emmie an' Margarita by myself. Your in for it ye know…"

"Patty, shut up an' listen. Ye need to bring everyone down to the shop an' let them know we are here, the second basements been flooded an' in a short time its going to get up to the first basement where all uncles supplies are, we have to move things up to safety an I've called the fire company but it will be a while before they can get here. I don't ha uncles cell number to let him know, but Frank's more important. Hurry yer arse down here!"

Molly wiped a trickle of sweat from her brow before passing another box up the steps to Ian who passed it on to Shauna. She could have left Ian to deal with everything, and she had no idea how much _work_ work was. She had no idea what was in the boxes, but she understood the haste that they needed, by the time they had a good part of the boxes taken upstairs, the water was beginning to seep through the floor along the walls and bubble forth. There were things that were too big to move just then, they would have to be dragged up when they could. Ian made sure to prioritize what was important, what could be salvaged later and what they could do with out if they couldn't shift everything. The dyes were important- those were the first things that he had them remove. The sacks of wool could be replaced, or washed , and pulling them up with the pulley system got them off the floor to give them time for the other things. He had no idea what was in some boxes that were sealed. Rather than risk losing something important, they took them up as well. He looked at the work bench - the tools were next, some of them long and sharp. They were careful as they passed them up, and by the time that they were down to the heavy things to drag up, the water was knee deep. Just as Ian was about to tell everyone to go up, that the water was getting too deep he saw

something hanging above the work bench

"How the bloody… did that get here?" he gasped gazing at the family sword.

"Ian, NO - you can't - its coming up too fast and none of us can't swim!" gasped Patty as she watched her brother work his way down the steps.

"I have to!" he said, plunging into the icy water surging forward to the work bench where he pulled himself up just as the shop was plunged into darkness.

"IAN!" screamed Patty.

"I'm okay! I've got it!" gasped Ian as the water surged about his feet. He struggled to lift the heavy sword, then, realizing that he couldn't hold it for long, he pulled several nails from the container that was nestled against the pegboard and pushed them into the holes before lifting the sword up to rest on them. He felt the water

become higher. "Patty, I have it up some, but I canna carry it above my head to get it to safety," Ian said with a trembling voice. "The water is near above my head now if I am on the floor."

"What are we going to do?" asked Shauna as she clung to Emily.

"My dad!" said Molly, making her way out the door she ran as fast as she could to where her father was just opening up the mini mart. "DAD! DAD! " She saw Harrison turn and look at her. Breathless she came to a stop "COME QUICKLY! HURRY!" she said, turning and running back up the street to where the shop was.

Harrison realized several things at one time. Molly had run - something she had never done. While she was prone to pranks, this didn't seem like one of them from the look on her face. Her pants and shirt up to her chest were soaking wet. The other was she had called him dad. Pocketing his keys he hurried up the hill into the shop that she had gone into and stumbled into near darkness, He could hear children in the back and following the sound of their voices he heard his daughter say, "He's coming Ian, hang on!" Molly looked up at him as she held the flash light to illuminate Ian – the water was past his knees. Harrison nodded to his daughter before going down the steps.

"I'm coming, Ian," he said as he crossed the distance to the work bench.

"The sword, ye need to take the sword across first," said Ian with chattering teeth.

"There won't be time," said Harrison, reaching for Ian who pulled back from him.

"I won't leave with out it, its worth more than my life," he said, lifting it down.

Harrison reached out again and scooped Ian into his arms. The water was chest high for him as he waded across the room. He heard a groan from the floor beneath him and kept walking as fast as he could with out losing his balance. "Off the stairs, everyone, and to the outside!" he gasped, reaching for the stair railing. There was a creaking groan as they started up the steps and a _whoosh_ as the wooden floor of the first basement gave away. The stairs shifted beneath them as they reached the top.

Patty had the sense to have brought down blankets from the upstairs and wrapped them around the children and Mr. Bishop as they sat on the front steps of the shop.

"We have to let some one know about this, but they are all away," said Shauna softly as she hugged Ian.

"Dr. Tipper wouldn't be away, its her day off though - I don't know where she would be staying," Ian murmured. "She does have one of those pagers, though I never learned her number."

Taking in a breath Molly swallowed. "I know it," she said. She noticed that her father's eyebrow went up, then down again as he handed her his cell phone. Flipping the phone open Molly dialed Tipper's number then handed it to Ian.

Tipper pushed through the crowd that had gathered with the arrival of the fire company, past the Chief to where the children were huddled under the blankets. Patty was keeping a firm hold on Margarita, keeping her tucked in the blanket with her, while Emily and Shauna were together in a blanket, and Harrison, Molly and Ian were together, trying to bring some warmth to Ian's thin bones. She gathered him into her arms and felt the sword press between them.

"What happened?" she demanded of Ian, her eyes glancing at the sword. "How..?" There was a jumble of explanation from the children. Her eyes flickered with anger as she learned that George had left the children on their own to go off.

"What I would like to know is where all that water came from," inquired Harrison of the Fire Chief, who shrugged.

"Darned if I know how, but something took out a section of the storm drain and the

water that would have been diverted to the back harbor ended up following the old system that people used 200 years ago. Some of the lower houses that have the second basements would be bound to have some water in them from the rains, and normally the submersible pumps take care of it. This shops one of the few that were at the lowest point, everything came in at once. We were busy with another house when the call came in, and didn't make the connection until the second call came in for this address. We thought it was a case of hydrostatics pressure, and was just putting it back into the same broken system. That's why it filled so quickly."

"Is my dad's shop okay?" Molly asked, curious. The fire chief looked down to the mini mart. "It's on the other side of the street, each side of main street had their own system, so it should be alright."

George walked swiftly up the road towards Seth's house. He knew belatedly that he had left his cell in his trench coat pocket, and that Jessica had worn it while she was searching for Margarita. When he had come down stairs, the trench coat was on a hanger over the kitchen door getting a final drying, there was no sign of his cell, and he knew that if Jessica would have found it, she would have placed it with his wallet as she had done when he first arrived. He had tried to call the number from Jessica's phone, but realized that he must have turned it off when he slipped it in the pocket.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," he muttered to himself, hoping to see it laying along the roadside. He knew every number in it by heart, there were just some other things in it of questionable nature that he would have difficulty explaining if it was discovered. He had searched every place that the coat may have been, and when Jessica had said she was going out, and to watch the kids, he had taken the opportunity to take a walk to see if he could recover the phone. He knew the kids were very good at taking care of themselves, and the half hour that he was gone, they wouldn't even miss him. He gritted his teeth for a moment. If he had spoken to his aunt as Ian had the night before his father would have flogged him. Laws prevented that now, especially in America. There was something to be said to restrain the cheeky nature of the young – molding them into manageable adults. It wasn't that Ian was a bad child. It was just that as he regained his strength he was showing a side of defiance that would be difficult to contain in a few years. There was an unbridled emotion that boiled beneath the surface – one that George knew would manifest someday at the most In opportune time.

Panting for breath when he got to the tree that Jessica said she had waited under, George found himself seeking a bench further down the road to sit on while he studied his options. If it was out in the rain, the battery would have perhaps shorted, or at the very least, gone to shut down mode where he would have to dry it out. The phone had a unique serial number etched on to the area behind the battery. When he had first been issued the phone, it had been registered with the Yard. The moment that the numbers were traced, they would know…

The hardest thing had been looking Jessica in the eye and pretending nothing had been wrong- that it was her he wanted to see all along when he brought the children over. That had been plausible for everyone in the Yard. `Going to see my lady friend while I drop off the little ones who are related to her.' Those who knew him well enough to knew he didn't do well with children would understand what a particular horror the cover story would be for him.

Tipper had seen right through him, when Jessica did not. `People will die if others believe I have any other reason to be here than just visiting,' he had managed to hiss to her when she had caught him in a conversation on his cell phone in the garden late one night as she was coming out of Willie's house. He had tried to keep his voice soft, but he knew when the person on the other end of the phone started shouting, and he had seen the look in her eyes- the pause waiting for answers – he knew. Knew of all the people he had to trust some one if something should go wrong.

This was a different type of wrong. This was all wrong. Sleepy little sweet towns like Cabot Cove should not be hot beds of international crimes. The photos sent Interpol as the demand for ransom had been traced with sophisticated technology. They had serial numbers and images of a frightening arsenal – enough to supply most of the radical groups to overthrow a few governments. It had only been because he had been to Cabot Cove's docks before that he recognized the splashed colors of the plastic lobster trap that the one gun was resting on. People used that particular lobster trap, with its over sized plastic lobster, to have their photos taken. George sighed. While most of the officers of the Yard would be told to bring the gang down who was arranging this, George had been told the opposite. They wanted this particular group to succeed in what they were doing. There would always be pockets of militants about the world. Knowing where they were at- knowing who was in charge and where the money was coming from and who controlled it was a better battle than endlessly bringing one down , and then another that sprang up in its place. If it went bad, then, he would be charged

with being an accessory to it, and punished. Those that charged him with doing this task would deny everything. It had to be that way. As long as he knew where the guns were- who was doing the work, and seeing that the plans they had were delayed in every way, he was a success to the mission. He sighed. He had questioned the wisdom of the orders, but they were his orders. If by chance the powers that be who made those orders were on the side of wrong, then the world was lost and there would be no hope of finding it safe again. George closed his eyes blocking out the thought of looking into Jessica's disappointed eyes. At least if he was to lose her, he would have had this time with her.

Obey without question. He had his life's work dedicated to that. Right now, though, he was doing a lot of questioning. He had no doubt at this moment that things were going horribly wrong and everything was coming to an end. Why did Cabot Cove have to be the gathering place for this group? He sighed then stood up from the bench. Perhaps the phone would turn up in the house- he would have to search again. It took less time to go down the hill than it did to go up it and for a moment he breathed in the silent bliss of the house before realizing that the house * was * silent. He went about the house looking for answers then went across to Taylor's house and knocked thinking they had gone over. Getting no answer he returned back to see the fluttered paper that had slipped off the table in perfect cursive

writing.

"Ian called and said the second basement is flooded, and rising to the first one. Going down with the others to help him clear it out. Please let the others know if you can find them."

"Buggers," George breathed out before picking up the phone to dial the fire company.

Harrison regarded Tipper as she held Ian snuggled in her arms against her chest. 'She'd make a good step mother,' he found himself thinking. "Look, I have hot cocoa and hot tea at the Mart, and some things the kids can change into and there is a dryer there so that they can start to get warmer. It's just right there," he said pointing, yet knowing Tipper had been a frequent customer of his shop and knew what he had. He didn't know what made him offer that. Gretchen would yell at him later about giving things away, but, this was the right thing to do. `She is pretty too' he thought to himself, not wanting to part company with her. Tipper looked at the

fire chief - if any one showed up, he could tell them where they were. She nodded then lifted Ian up into her arms and followed them down to the Mini Mart.

Molly noticed at once the girls had taken the clothing, gone to a corner of the back room and slipped out of their wet things with out even waiting for her father or Ian to leave the room. Ian was having his own problems. He had placed the sword down on a chair and was struggling to remove his wet shirt, then stopped. Tipper looked at him then knelt down in front of him. "My fingers are too frozen to work," he mumbled. Ruffling his hair Tipper indicated for him to raise his arms up while she pulled his shirt off up over his head. Molly saw the deep puckered marks on Ian's back and gasped softly. Not know what else to do she turned, and noticed similar markings on Patty's back. Patty turned hearing Molly's gasp, and saw the horror on her face. Shrugging she said in a matter of fact tone "Ah, just from shrapnel, tha's all. It mostly itches sometimes." Molly was about to turn back to Ian when Patty stopped her. "Your na kin yet to see his bare backside," she giggled.

Harrison came into the back room "The hot coco is ready…" He extended his hand to help Tipper up. Rising she found a shy smile looking at her with interest.

Ian regarded what he was seeing. Tipper had taken Harrison's hand, and was standing. His sisters were moving to the door to get some hot chocolate. Feeling a bit odd inside of his belly, Ian hung back. "I'll just put the cloths in the dryer," he said, raising his eyebrow at Tipper, who was blushing. Tipper needed to get out and

about more. Harrison was a likable chap, but the thought of Tipper becoming a wife to anyone was – well, it would be a sad day for the rest of the lads who had lost their heart to her and never said.

"I'll help Ian," Molly heard herself saying. Harrison nodded, wondering just what this young man had about him that had changed his daughter so. He placed his hand in the small of Tipper's back and guided her to the store area with the rest of the children.

Brad Jamison sat on his bed looking at the small pile of money beside him. It was all he could find in the house, even after looking through his mothers purse. He needed to get another Razor phone, and get the number put into it before it was found out that he had lost it. At least he had the sense to place the photos and uploaded the files up on the web on the library computer so he could down load them later into his phone. Even if that twerp did take it, the battery on the phone would be near dead, and he had set it up that after a power failure you needed a password to access the files.

Brad had no desire to end up as bait in a lobster trap. That foreign gent was specific to be normal, act normal, and if things went wrong, he was on his own. He didn't know where the gent was staying, and he never said what his name was, but his accent was one that was too proper – too refined – and would be easy to nail in a police line up. Brad had already made up his mind to tell everything if he got caught and ask for a plea bargain. He didn't want to spend the rest of his life stuck in the backwater town- he wanted the excitement and glamour of the big city where no one knew you or cared if you washed behind your ears and made your bed. Brad listened for sounds from his mother's room. She worked the late shift at the ship building yards and would sleep for hours. Glancing down at the money pile again he saw the scrapes on his knuckles from hitting that twerp. No one had seen him do it except his buddies, who were forming a new type of respect for him. He chuckled to himself. He hadn't told them what he was into, what money that the things would bring. He knew exactly where every single one of the totes were, and, he knew, from several thousand that two or three missing wouldn't be noticed. He had made sure that by accident he had dropped a tote or two when they were carrying them and in the darkness it was easy to kick one aside and get it later. He knew how to clean the gun and to oil it and Earl had been kind enough to sell him some shells for them as well during hunting season. Earl's death had put a cramp in things and the new owners of the Mini Mart had changed the locks after the sale- the padlock on the door with the chains had prevented him from getting what else he needed- the drop lock box of cash that Earl had kept from the transactions he couldn't ring on the register in the back room. Brad had palmed the keys of the shop one day and returned a short time later leaving them in the same spot. It would be enough. It would have to be enough.

The side of his mouth twitched as he screwed on the gun's silencer. If he couldn't find the phone, or replace it, he would have to run. He knew there was enough money in the drop box to get him away and keep him comfortable and the only thing that prevented him from taking the money before was that Earl would have come after him himself and killed him . It was early enough that the tourists wouldn't be about. He could be in and out with out anyone knowing and then be

gone. His mouth twitched again as he slid the one gun into the boot holster, and the other in the small of his back covered by his shirt.

"I'm going shopping, ma," he called into his mothers bedroom. He saw her nod then roll back over to sleep. Closing the door behind him he strode with confidence along the back alleys that would take him to his destination.

Tipper had been kind enough to pay for some snacks for the kids while they waited and got warmer She knew that it wasn't the best diet in the world for them, but she also knew that if George had been left in charge of them he wouldn't think to feed them properly. His idea of breakfast was a cup of coffee and a cigar, neither of which were good for the children. She had noticed that Ian was struggling with his

energy – the icy waters had sapped what reserves he had. Snagging a bag of corn chips she gave Harrison the money and then gave them to Shauna to take back to Ian.

Ian was sitting on the dryer letting the warmth of it seep into his thin body his hand resting on the sword in the sheath beside him. Molly had brought him hot chocolate and sipped at her cup while she went about the back room looking for the same type of panel that Ian had shown her. She had quickly found the basement door, but with the door to the shop, there wasn't really any room beside it. A quick

peak down below showed that it was dry as the Fire Chief had said. It was filled with dusty boxes that held all the old souvenirs that Earl could never sell and had huge spiders that Molly had been told by him they would suck her face right off. Molly was convinced that there was some secret passage in the store back room somewhere, despite the threat of the huge spiders, had all of the children down in the basement tapping the walls to see if there was a space behind them. Tipper had been dragged down there as the "great spider hunter" and he could hear the shrieks and the steady WHAP WHAP of a very useless fly swatter against the spiders.

Ian leaned to the side and called down the steps, "I could do for some more hot chocolate please." He heard the girls giggle below and the exasperated "Again?" from Patty. The thudding up the steps told him more than one of them were coming up. Margarita was first out of the door grinning at him, followed by Molly who raised her eyebrow at his empty cup. Margarita had bonded to Molly following her everywhere. Molly was about to call him a piggy person but she saw his lips and fingers were still flushed with blue. "Maybe we should put you IN the dryer to warm up!" she said, grinning.

He handed her his cup, and nodded thanks. "I'd thought of tha', but I'd be dizzy and throw up all over the clothes."

Sighing she went to the wash sink to rinse it out as the door chime tinkled. She was

about to say something when she heard someone talking to her father. Ian noticed that where she had been relaxed a moment before, now there was tension in her face, and the struggle to say something.

"Stay here," she said finally.

Ian nodded, not comprehending quite what she was saying. She swallowed and put down the cup then went out into the shop area behind the counter. She didn't see her dad or the person the voice had been coming from. She knew her dad had been rotating stock by the freezer area and carefully she edged her way about. He was still there, his hands slightly raised up, and his back to her. She took a step to the side and saw the tall good looking kid from the bus talking to her father, and it took a moment to process that he had a gun in his hand pointed at her father.

"This isn't the way, son, whatever you need …" Harrison said, trying to buy time. He knew that he had to stay calm, he knew that the children were in the back room and if he could distract the young man long enough, there was a chance he could perhaps be disarmed.

"Daddy?" gasped Molly, taking a step closer to her father. Harrison saw the young man swing the gun in Molly's direction and pull the trigger.

Below Tipper was just about to kill a particularly large spider who was challenging her when the sound of shattering glass clattered above her. Glancing about she saw that Molly and Margarita were missing. Groaning she sighed. "Oh no…sounds like cleanup in isle five."

Curious as to what had alarmed Molly so that she had forgotten his hot cocoa cup he slid off of the dryer and made his way across the floor stubbing his toe on a metal ring that was sunk into the floor. Rubbing away the pain he glanced up at the sound of the softened bang and the shattering glass. The smoke from the gun barrel swirled in the air telling Ian everything he needed to know. Ian scrambled back and shoved the door to the basement closed then looked around for something to defend his family with. It was with out hesitation that he drew the sword and held it in trembling arms as the footsteps to the backroom grew closer. He could hear the basement door swing open and the pause of the footsteps, the click of the hammer and the bullet slipping into the chamber. Pressing back against the dryer Ian tried to make himself invisible. He heard Shauna gasp at the top of the steps . Soundlessly Ian stepped forward as Brad approached where Shauna was frozen to the spot. With the strength he had he held the sword steady and stepped forward into Brad's path driving the blade deep.

There was a roar in his ears, one of hate, and anger and passion as he kept pushing deeper, pushing Brad away from his sister and on to the floor. Brad was screaming in pain as he fell, dropping the gun in the process. His eyes widened as he felt something press against his wind pipe- Ian had placed his foot there with his hand on the sword for balance.

"Ian, no… don't," he heard Patty say behind him trying to pull him away.

"He is no different than the ones who killed our Da, Patty, or the ones who killed our friends last fall."

"An we become no better than them if we kill them," she insisted.

"I _am_ no better," he said grimly.

Tipper strode across the backroom and picked up the gun. Taking a breath she handed it to Patty. "If that twerp moves, blow his brains out. But don't shoot your brothers foot off." Patty took the gun from Tipper and with renewed firmness went to Brad and held it to his temple. Glancing down at the sword that was still lodged above Brad's hip she knew it hadn't hit any major organs. "Leave that in, and he won't bleed out."

Tipper went out into the shop and rolled Harrison over. He had a gash on his forehead and bright blood seeping from an exit wound on his upper shoulder. She saw Molly laying very still, blood on her shirt, but no entry wound. Giving her a shake Tipper saw Molly's eyes open as she gasped. Tipper helped Molly sit up and going to the first aid aisle she grabbed a hand full of packing material then returned to where Molly was shaking like a leaf. She had at least moved her father's head into her lap. Tipper ripped open a packet of gauze and folded it, pressing it in Molly's hand she guided it to Harrison's forehead and urged her to press down to help stop the bleeding. Cutting open the shirt in that area she saw that the bullet had entered and exited at the shoulder. High enough that the lungs weren't involved, but ether it had passed just by the shoulder bone, or had gone through it. Close range most bullets would have stopped at the bone. The newer bullets, though, would go through the concrete of several buildings.

Margarita ran up the street unmindful of the tourists who didn't give the small child in just a long t-shirt a second glance. The Fire Chief was still with the others overseeing pumping the water out of the shop and checking the stability of the building that had some of the foundation damaged. Reaching up she grabbed onto his over coat and began to pull on it. He regarded her and saw her face was tear streaked.

"Well, hello little lady- what are you doing here?" For a second he saw struggle on her face then she opened her mouth: " Daddy? Thwap Chresshhhhsss Daddy? Thwap Chresshhhssss ..."

The fire chief regarded her still puzzled until a voice behind him said, "That sound she is making- sounds a lot like a gun with a silencer on it." Realizing that what ever was wrong, it was enough to be upsetting to the child the chief gathered her into his arms and strode down the hill as he dialed the police station on his cell. Without even going in he saw the prone figure of Harrison, with some one bending over him. He could hear the sobbing of someone, and the moans of pain further in.

Andy Broom regarded the children as the ambulance medics slid Harrison onto a gurney. He had cuffed Brad and found the other guns. The medics had informed him Brad was in no medical danger and would recover to stand trial. Andy eyed the sword. Taking a breath he said, "Best you clean that. The sheriff will want a word with your uncle about it later, but you can take it home." Sighing Andy

looked down at Brad. "You, young man, are in serious trouble." Andy saw a smug look on Brad's face.

"I have information that the sheriff will want to know- I want to do a plea bargain," Brad said, wincing in pain from the Medic packing the wound. Brad watched as Andy's eyebrow went up. In half a day he would be out and he would wait til night to get back into the shop and get the money. He would have to go into hiding, or, the witness protection program- they would pay to keep him safe. His smug look

increased to a grin. As the medics lifted the gurney up it tilted. Brad heard the distinctive clatter of keys falling onto a hard surface. He cursed to himself. He couldn't call attention to them- and it was with renewed hope that as the medic took a step, he came upon the keys. He saw Patty pick them up and lay them on the dryer as Andy herded the children out the door to the main area of the store.

George was out of breath by the time he reached the shop, and saw the amount of water that was being pumped into a tanker to take it away. They didn't want to put any further stress on the already over taxed water system.

"The children- where are the children?" he asked one of the firemen who wore the name McKee on his jacket as he came out of the building. Too tired to speak McKee pointed down the street where the Mini Mart was and the twin ambulances were parked with flashing lights.

He wasn't allowed inside. The medic didn't care who he was, or where he was from, there were just too many people inside. Frustrated, George could only cool his heals as he paced out side near the phones. He saw a thin lovely woman come up and rush to the side of the gurney that was being carried out. "Harrison!" she gasped. Molly was the next out the door and went to her. She was covered in her father's blood and beyond tears.

"Aunt Gretchen!" she sobbed going into Gretchen's outstretched arms. "Daddy shielded me from… from... why would he do that?" she gasped through her tears.

"He loves you more than his own life Molly… its why he has always fought to be a part of your life, no matter how hard your mother tried to keep you two apart."

"The children have been through a lot today, Ma'am , Might be best if they were taken to the hospital to be checked out as well," said McKee before he turned to the Fire Chief who stood beside the ambulance as the medics prepared to load Brad into it. "The crew's almost done up there sir, it's the last of the reported floodings and they were wondering what your orders were."

Ian regarded McKee and the Fire Chief. Crossing his arms across his thin chest he shook his head. "Ach no, we're fine an' ha' been through far worse on a simple day back home. We will stay an' clean up for him so when he comes back home he won't ha' melted ice cream everywhere. Our uncle's a doctor as is Dr. Tipper an' if we need medical help we can get it from them as well. We're na' hurt an we can lock up for him when were done." Seeing George standing next to the wall waiting

Ian wagged his finger at him. "An' he will help Dr. Tipper keep an eye on the littlest one."

There was a buzzer inside that went off making everyone jump. Shauna looked over her shoulder and shrugged. "Ach, our cloths are dry - we can change." She took Molly's hand and said, "You will feel better if you're in that warm sweatshirt you were wearing afore. Come along, they won't leave with out you. Let's get you into them. "

Wordlessly Molly went in followed by the other girls. Ian was the last to turn to go in when he sensed someone behind him. Turning he saw it was McKee and stood his ground. "You'll na be entering while the girls are changing. Ye are na kin, nor a doctor, an' I see no fire here. Out with ye!"

McKee felt a tap at his shoulder. Turning he found himself face to face with George.

"I believe the lad has a point," said George, who stepped in front of McKee and folded his arms across his chest, blocking the way into the store. Ian gave George a curt nod then went back where the others were changing. Molly had just finished pulling her hair out from the back of her shirt when Ian came behind her and whispered, "I found ye second basement I think, but it can wait till there are less people to see it found."

She turned, He saw her face was tear streaked and that, in a way, she was prettier than his sisters would ever hope to be. Picking up her hand he gave it a squeeze. "Things will work out all right, lass. Your da will be fine."

Molly sniffed. "Oh Ian!" She gave a gaspy sob before throwing herself into his arms. Awkwardly Ian patted her shoulder while he stood, rather uncomfortable. He saw Patty hide a bit of a smile. He would have to have words with her later.

Taylor wiggled her toes in her stocking feet and sipped the strong tea Mort had made for her. They had uncovered a frightening hoard of weapons. Mort had a list that he had placed in her care to check off the serial numbers as they were unpacked, then repacked. There were some pages that were complete and then set aside, and others that had one or two missing. She knew Mort was resisting the urge to go out and look for the cell phone laying in the grass. Dawn had come and while she had taken brief naps, she was still tired and knew she had a full day with the children ahead. Mort had sent her to the office and given her tea to drink as well as some things from the vending machines to munch on. He knew enough to ensure her rest and to keep her hydration up while they worked or that there would be hell to pay when he returned her to Willie. They had recovered a fair few prints from the boxes, and were careful to wear gloves when handling the items. Once the tote was inventoried, it was sealed and moved to the other side of the hall and another one brought in. The sound of a police cruiser pulling into the lot was enough to shake the rest of the thoughts of slumber from Taylor.

`The sheriff isn't going to like this' thought Andy as he strode into the school. Rounding the corner Andy came into the principal's office and saw Taylor. Tipping his hat he drew in a breath. "Ma'am, there was a bit of trouble this morning at your husband's shop, and then later at the Mini Mart. The children are fine and Dr. Henderson is with them now."

Leaning forward Taylor shifted the direction her spine was leaning to take pressure off of her hip. "A bit of trouble? What sort? How are the children involved in all of this and why wasn't Willie with them? Is he alright?"

"Your husband is at the hospital with Mrs. Fletcher - young Frank took a turn early this morning and Mr. Fletcher called him to help if he could. From what I understand, young Mr. McAvery went to the shop to do his chores and was joined by young Miss Bishop. They discovered that the cellars were flooding in and with the others were able to clear things out and notify the fire company. The company has been working all night clearing the waters out, one of the old main sewers gave way, and was sending water into the lower basements. One thing they did bring out of the shop was your husband's family sword. Young Mr. McAvery took custody of it, and Mr. Harrison had the children come down to the mini mart to get their cloths dried and warm them up. They were in the water a while. We're not sure what all happened, but when I arrived the paramedics were removing the sword from Mr. Jamison's hip and had loaded Mr. Bishop into the first ambulance."

Nearly falling off of her chair as she sat up Taylor choked on her tea. "Who was stabbed?" she managed to gasp.

"Mr. Brad Jamison. Though he and the others have said young Mr. McAvery was defending his sisters. It's not clear, but we believe Mr. Jamison was trying to rob the Mini Mart, and was responsible for shooting Mr. Bishop. We recovered two guns from Mr. Jamison, and I've brought them. We will speak with his mother, but under the circumstances, there won't be any charges filed for the stabbing."

Andy placed the evidence bag containing the two guns on the desk beside Taylor. Turning them over she saw where the serial numbers were and checked the list. She circled them, then sighed as Mort strode into the room with another tote. Andy regarded the tote, and had seen Taylor circle the number. Before Mort had a chance to say anything he spoke up.

"Sheriff, there's still another one missing on that list that has the numbers from these guns."

Mort stiffened. "Where did you recover these?"

Taylor's breath was trembling when she answered "Brad Jamison tried to rob the Mini Mart."

Andy shook his head. "I don't think that was the reason he was there, Ma'am. The mart had just opened up and they only had a few dollars in sales. He hadn't had a chance to get his change from the bank that morning. The shops don't do that until the bank opens at 10. The most that he would have hoped to get was about twenty dollars. I have a feeling there was something else there that he wanted. He also said that he wanted to cut a deal with you sheriff."

For a long time Mort stood in silence. " No deals. Everyone involved in this is going down." He said grimly watching Taylor close her eyes to hold back tears.

Mort sighed before extending his hand to Taylor. "Come on. Let's get you and Oliver home. Mr. Murphy is going to lock the doors from the inside with chains until the transport comes to take these away. Andy can stay with him, and I will be back to supervise the transfer. You, though, need sleep while you can get it."

Exhausted, Taylor stood and wobbled a bit. Nodding to Andy she leaned on Mort while he picked up Oliver and walked with Mort down the hall to the gymnasium where they took the one way doors outside. For a moment Mort leaned against the door frame as he gave final instructions to Andy and took her to his car. Once the door was closed he took a slow turn about and saw, to his satisfaction that the cell phone was gone. Starting the cruiser Mort pulled ahead of the parking space and into the main drive of the school. He waited until they were on the way about the building before asking "So, why the tears?"

Taylor didn't answer him for a moment.

"Guns like those, are more than what a high school kid could afford. Granted, Earl may have had his hand in it, which might connect him to Brad, but, let's face it Mort, there are really just two other men in this town that could afford a stash like that, or to have a reason to do it. I think you may suspect the first one, so I won't mention names, but have you thought that it may also be Willie?"

Mort nearly drove off the road as he glanced at her for more than a brief second. He pulled over to the side and put the brake on before looking at her.

"Willie? Why would you suspect him? You're his wife, - your not – well, the law allows you to keep your silence in regard- - Willie? "

Taylor shrugged. Her eye became distant before closing again. "There are things I am still learning about him. A large chunk of the money we found disappeared and he won't say where it went to, and perhaps, it might *be* like him to do it, if he knew the guns were to be used to save the innocents who had no way of fighting back. Would you lock him up for trying to save lives that way?"

"I don't know any more," he said honestly. "You're talking like it's a freedom fighter movement. I understand from what Scotland Yard's file said on him, he was right in the middle of a lot of those clashes - he always came across as someone who tried to save lives, not help people take them. What could have changed in him that he would have that type of anger?" wondered Mort.

Waving her hand dismissively she sighed. "It was when the children first came- that night, when he was helping the girls get settled in, and he happened to see the marks on Patty and Shauna. We had known Ian had some injuries that he wouldn't speak of, scars, but the same were on the girls, except for Emmie, she was too young to be in school when the pipe bomb came through the window and blasted out part of the building. It was two years ago. A year later the factory where their father worked was bombed. Mort- the people who did it locked them in the building and set it off. There was no reason except, well, the same people who were in that building had children in the school that had the bombs tossed in. Some feel the poor are a blight upon the earth. That the land they use could be better served in high rises, and resorts- that they have no value any more than cattle that are sent to the glue factories. Yes, if there was a way to help them fight back, Willie would do it. Hell, I've held Shauna at night time when her night terrors come, and I would give guns to stop what is happening to the children." She looked down at Oliver who yawned before stretching her neck over to Mort tilting her head and made a deep yowling noise in her throat. Mort saw Taylor's expression change as he began to pull away. Her hand went out and laid on his arm stopping him. "When did you come into contact with C4?" she asked.

Mort shook his head. "No time that I knew of… Damn," he said, turning the cruiser about. "Why didn't she pick up on that before?"

"She's only a pup Mort! She was lucky to find the graphite, we didn't tell her to look for C4, though she was pretty good about finding some of the other things. Why, though? When could it have happened? You were fine before."

"The cell phone was gone. Someone came and got it- This isn't good…" he said turning the car around and driving back towards the school. "Who ever got the cell had to have done something that we didn't see"

"When, though? No one came!"

Mort swallowed. "That would leave Mr. Murphy then, wouldn't it? And Andy is in there with him."

"I don't believe that, Mort!" Taylor insisted. "He wouldn't have had any contact with any of the kids until the beginning of the school year, and it would have taken most of the summer to get them all in if they were doing it at night. He wasn't even at the school until a month ago! Who else had access to the building?"

"The principal, half the teachers, and the janitor." Mort said, bringing the car to a stop. Taylor sighed as she unbuckled her side and waited until Mort came around to open the door. Placing Oliver on a leash, she set the pup down and let her wander a bit around the entrance where she stopped at the door and gave the same deep yowling noise in her throat. Blinking twice Mort regarded the thin line of gray that worked around the frame of the door. The impression of his sleeve was still visible. "This wasn't here last night- who ever got the cell, put this in place and this is one of the few one way doors- you cant get in from the outside unless some one lets you in. The tape over the key hole hasn't been punctured though," said

Mort, running his finger over the thin layer of cellophane that he had put over all the external key holes before they had started their search. "Its on a blind side too., but they had to have come with in camera range to find the cell… wonder if the cameras were able to see anything last night?"

Taylor looked at Mort. "No one came last night that we saw, Mort- what's to say that the person wasn't already here when we came?"

"The other doors we chained so people could not get in. We didn't do this one because you can't get in from the outside."

Willie stretched his arms upward trying to get some feeling back into his shoulders. It had been a grueling night, and he had finally convinced Jessica, Grady and Donna to use the side room and close their eyes for a bit. Frank was out of danger now, the bleeding that he had begun was stopped and he was resting comfortable. He knew the vending machines in the emergency room dispensed a lovely strong

cuppa tea and he knew he needed what they referred to as the extra large grand to get his body sorted out. It was blazing hot, sweet and lovely going down as he finished it in four gulps. He was considering getting another cup when twin ambulances pulled into the hospital emergency room unloading area. A driver came up to the desk and placed his clip board down as the people in the ambulance were

being unloaded.

"What do you have for me, Sam?" asked Shelia the night ER nurse. Shelia had been making eyes at Willie all night, and had said she thought his accent was the sexiest thing she had ever heard. That had made Willie blush .

"Gunshot wound to the shoulder, and a stab wound to the lower abdomen with of all things an old sword. Kid was trying to rob the mini mart and when he went into the back room, the little kids that were playing in there – well, one – ran the perp through with the sword. Good thing too, he had a nine millimeter berretta with armor piercing bullets. Little ones that small wouldn't have a chance. Had to have been bad aim that saved the mini mart owner."

Willie saw Gretchen and Molly hurry along side of the gurney into the ER. Molly saw Willie ahead, and left her aunt's side to run to him. "Please help my Dad!" she said through her tears.

Willie glanced over his mask to the window of the observation room beside the operating theater. He could see Gretchen holding Molly on her lap as they waited for news on Harrison. Tipper had done a good job in stabilizing him, it was just a matter of cleaning out the debris that had been pushed into the wound. While it wasn't totally life threatening, it was closer to the heart, with arteries involved. The work on the young man would wait while they closed up on Harrison, then he and

Seth, and another surgeon would take their time to sew up the cuts and nicks that the sword would have done to the small and large intestines, and if it was very bad, remove the affected lengths, shorten it, and resects the remaining tissue. Brad was in better shape than Harrison - the half hour that he would have to cool his heels would do him good, Willie thought with a small amount of perverse pleasure. If the time that Brad laid and moaned in agony would ever teach him not to do something, now would be the time for him to learn. Molly hadn't told him much, only that she had come around the corner and heard them talking. Her father had shielded her from the gun shot and the next thing she knew Tipper was beside her

trying to stop the bleeding. She had seen all of the kids, they were okay and Tipper had stayed with them.

They didn't get a lot of gun shot wounds there, nor stabbings - the most the hospital had treated were broken bones, births, frost bite, the occasional fish hook imbedded in the hapless tourist and car accidents. Now certified as a medical doctor, while he didn't have a practice, it allowed him to assist at the hospital when there was a need. He knew Seth welcomed the extra help. There was so much that

the hospital needed- so much that the small towns could use for medical help that could save lives right away, rather than the half hour drive to Portland. The waiting for word was the hardest for the family. He knew Molly had been through a traumatic time, but viewing the healing of her father was something that she needed to see to begin her own healing. Finishing the last stitch Willie nodded to the anesthesiologist to begin bringing Harrison back up. Willie watched as the vitals improved and with a thankful sigh, he nodded to Molly, his smile hidden behind his mask. There was a lot of healing that child had to do. This was only the beginning.

Brad shifted on the narrow cot while he waited in the tiny exam room. He was still handcuffed to the gurney, they hadn't prepped him for surgery, and every time he moved he could feel the pain in his side, and the small gun tucked in his left boot. They had found the one he had tucked in the base of his back when they had rolled him over, but when he went down the gun in his boot had shifted further down making an uncomfortable lump. They had placed an IV butterfly in the back of his hand, but that would be an easy thing to take out- all he needed was to wiggle a bit more for the pocket knife in his watch pocket. Handcuffs were not new to him. He had played with them with his friends when they were younger, the cops and robbers, and curious, he had learned how to pick the locks on them with just his pocket knife. He knew each type was different, and he knew the chances of him being able to get both of them off and out the door with out collapsing was slim. He had to, though. He knew, even if the sheriff would agree to cut a deal, the person who had got him into all of this knew exactly where he was. It wasn't a matter of pretending the phone never disappeared, it was a matter of his survival. He knew he only had the few dollars from his mothers purse, but it would be enough to get him away though. Some place that they wouldn't be able to get to him. He had a gun, he was a bright boy - he knew now, shoot and grab. Talking only had lead to trouble. He never expected some one to be waiting around the corner with a sword, though - that only happened in the movies, and on television.

Forcing himself to relax so that he wouldn't drop the pen knife Brad twisted his hand about flicking open the blade, angling it to the lock opening. As many times that he had done it at home for practice, those were still just the kid's style, not the police. His hands were sweating and his grip unsteady as he felt the lock give under pressure and click the bracelet open to clatter against the railings. He froze, waiting for someone to come in to investigate the noise, but happily they seemed to be ignoring him. It was with some discomfort that he was able to roll over and attend the other set of cuffs before sitting up and nearly passing out as he retrieved the snubbed nose revolver from his boot. He closed his eyes against the pain as he held his gut. Turning to the side he dropped his legs down and held onto the edge to prevent himself from screaming. He was about to see if he could find the floor when he heard Mort's voice say from the doorway, "Don't bother, son, you won't get far in your condition."

Brad turned lifting up his arm and holding the gun at an angle. "I don't have to - just - far enough…" he gasped.

Mort sighed. "Fine, you can shoot me, but, you need to know, you will make an ash of yourself. The hospital's pumping oxygen into the air, your gun will set it off around you sending you up in a fire ball."

Brad regarded him with a look of disbelief. "Duh, that only happens in the movies," he chuckled cocking the trigger. A new wave of pain caused him to lurch forward. Mort took that moment to step back out of the direct line of fire, but was surprised when Willie came to the door frame and leaned against it with extraordinary confidence.

"Ach , let him go Mort, he's dead anyways if he leaves with out treatment. I was using Bitter Elm on the blade to try and bring out some of the old etchings. Didn't know until just a tich that it was that particular blade that ran him through. With treatment, he may have half a chance against the poison, but seeing how he is

determined to leave the hospital under his own power, there na much we can do for him. He'll no doubt be feeling a bit of numbness near the site, that's the Elm working already. If the poison didn't get him in an hour the peritonitis will undoubtedly finish him in two."

Mort held Willie with a steady gaze. "The Peritowatis?" he asked, engaging him in conversational tone. If they talked long enough, and ignored Brad, as bad as he was, he would be passing out any time now.

"Peritonitis occurs when the intestinal tract is punctured or torn or bursts. There have been rare cases where individuals have survived for up to a week with it, but after the second day gangrene begins to set in from the necromantic tissues. The body begins to rot from the inside out. At that stage, the only hope of survival is a resection of the intestinal tract and the placement of a colonoscopy bag at the juncture of the large and small intestines just out side the path of the stomach, but the sadness of that is since the body canna absorb the nutrients that it needs it prolongs the suffering as it starves to death, it has no way of digesting the nutrition that the intestines do as the food moves along the path. If he does manage to walk out of here under his own power and gets out the door I will ha my wife make you, seeing as you are so fond of the sweet, chilled pomegranate an' red raspberry sorbet with a dash of my Da's summer whiskey."

"You would just – let me go?" asked Brad, fighting not to fall off of the gurney. He saw both men turn their heads to look at him. Willie shrugged.

"I'm na an officer of the court, I can't hold you if you won't accept medical treatment. The fact tha' your blow injured near to the point of death some one who is quite dear to me has made me disinclined to acceded to an argument with you that you would need care. Means No, I don't care if you live or die, an it would be up to Mort to convince me your worth keeping on the earth. Seeing how your more

trouble than your worth you can just pick your self up off of the gurney, go out the doors and die as the dog ye are in a back alley in abject misery for what ye ha done, seems proper enough punishment for ye an it would save the cost of your incarceration should ye sod off of the earth," stated Willie as he dusted his hands together.

"You're a doctor, you - you have to…" stammered Brad as he watched Willie's eyes grow cold. "Look, I will tell you everything I know about who was planning all of this and…" Brad faltered as he saw disgust on Willie's face.

"Perhaps ye misunderstood me, lad. I don't care about what you know or any deals you may wish to make with the sheriff. They don't helpheal wha' harm ye did already an' I'm na seeing any remorse from you. You may find yourself hard pressed to find a doctor here who might even give enough of a damn to care for you, seeing how they are friends of the family and are greatly distressed over what has occurred. I would suggest that you keep your right to council before speaking as anything you would blurt out would be seen as coercion by the courts an made inadmissible. No means No." Taking a deep breath Willie turned to Mort. "He's all yours. If my wife's home, I'd like to spend some time with her afore the children come back from their chores."

"She's not, she's here. She came with me when the call came in," Mort stated as he glanced back at Brad, who was wavering on the gurney. When he turned back he saw Willie regarding him with a raised eyebrow.

"You kept Wife out all night without so much as a by-your-leave?" Willie watched Mort blink once under his scrutiny. What ever they had found had to have been far larger than what was expected. Folding his arms over his chest he leaned against the door frame. "You didna give in to her want of those pastry puffs pies they ha there, did ye? There will be no living with her if ye did." The guilty look upon

Mort's face informed Willie all that he needed to know. "How many?" he demanded watching Mort glance down at the floor to avoid answering. "Mort? How many?"

Mort closed his eyes sighing briefly. "She was getting odd. She said she was hungry and we were by the vending machines and ..."

"How many Mort?" Willie fixed Mort with a piercing gaze.

"Um… I lost count after seven. She said she felt better - what was I to do!"

"LOST COUNT? Ye could ha said I said that she wasn't allowed ta have them. No means NO."

Brad wavered on the gurney. "Hey, I'm dying in here!" he grumbled, watching the two men outside the room ignoring him. He saw both of them glance in with a look his mother gave their dog when it came in from rolling in the garbage before turning back to face each other.

"She said they were okay because they had fruit in them."

"An ye believed her? Mort, they have over 400 calories per serving and each of them serves two and you lost count after seven of them. What isn't fat is sugar. Are ye mad? She won't sleep for a week! She didna follow it with what she calls a chaser to take the sweet away ..." Willie saw Mort cringe. "OH FOR THE LOVE OF …" he waved his arms in the air.

Both of them heard a clatter as the gun slipped from Brads hands down to the floor. His eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped to his side.

Mort sighed. "Right, Guess he's ready for surgery," he said, striding in the room to retrieve the gun that had fallen. Using a pair of rubber gloves from a box Mort picked up the gun, then slipped it into the evidence bag before placing it into his pocket. When he straightened up, he saw Willie hadn't moved from the corner of the door frame.

"What are you waiting for?" Mort asked curious.

"To do what?" inquired Willie not moving.

"He's about as ready as he will ever be for surgery…" Mort saw Willie blink.

"I've said it before Mort, I'm not going to operate on the likes of him." Willie watched the astonishment cover Mort's face.

"But, you – you have to- isn't there an oath that you took that puts aside the personal feelings you would have to do no harm… you were just playing him before ..." stammered Mort as he saw Willie pull away from the door frame to walk down the hall. Mort hurried from the room. "Willie, you're a doctor," he said, taking Willie by the elbow.

Willie stopped and regarded Mort, who let go. "Mort. If there is another reason for you to delay me, I will listen. For now I am going to retrieve my wife and see to her care. As I have said before I don't care what happens to that snot-nosed brat."

"Well, you should seeing how your wife believes your involved with him, and what he brought into this hospital and what we found – so before I pull you in for questioning, I need to know, where the money went that your not telling your wife about."

"Tha's hardly any of your concern Mort. I would suggest that you stay with tha' young pup while he's under an remember he needs his counselor there before ye begin to learn anything from him," shrugged Willie in the direction of the room. He watched Mort hesitate as he looked towards Brad's room, when Mort turned back to where Willie was, he found the corridor empty.

"How does he keep doing that?" wondered Mort.

Having a fair idea where Taylor may be, Willie strode down the hall to the waiting room next to the vending machines. Taylor was there with Donna. Both of them had stains of blueberry on their faces and smudges of crumbs down the fronts of their shirts. Their tall caffeine rich drinks were huddled in a mass of wrappers, and from the number of them Willie could see that they had a fair few between them. Taylor's eyes were closed in bliss as she slowly chewed a bite from a fresh pie that she had just opened savoring every morsel. Willie crossed over the room to stand beside her and gently lay his hand on her shoulder as he bent over and snagged the next bite as she raised it to her lips. Taylor felt the tug of someone eating her pie and looked across to see Willie eating a part of her pie with a curious expression on his face. While he had forbidden her to eat them during her pregnancy, he had admitted that he had never had them, and that they were not something to cross his lips any time soon.

Willie found his senses overwhelmed with the sweetness of the blueberries. In that single bite, he understood why she had desired them so greatly. He saw the hidden remains of the dill pickles and the marshmallow fluff - her chasers, as she called them, the combination of salty sweetness to take away the after taste of the lard crust. Taking the pie from her fingers he placed it on the napkin and took her hands.

"Wife, I've something to discuss with you," he said, taking the moist towlette to wipe the blueberry from her face and hands. There was no scolding in his voice, just weariness. He saw her nod once then followed him after excusing them selves from the room. Willie led her to the elevator in silence, then pushed a button for one of the top floors after inserting a key. When the door opened, Willie handed her a paper air filter mask, and a hard hat that was in a box at the side of the elevator. He slipped one on his head as well, then escorted her past the draped plastics that kept the dust down.

"What is this place? Wasn't this area closed because of lack of funding for the hospital?" she inquired curiously. She saw Willie nod as he waved to one of the workmen.

"Oh, aye it was," he said, taking her to the far open end of the floor to look back on everything.

"What's this all about Willie?" She saw him draw in a breath before exhaling slowly. There was something that was troubling him greatly, she knew him too well.

"Don't ye know by now, Wife?" Willie took her hand in his lifting it to his lips he kissed the back of it. She shook her head not knowing what to expect.

"Well then, I'll tell you. It had always been a right concern of mine, an Gram's to care for the wee ones who ha' little to no chance at all. In time, they may ha' managed something, but they would ha' lost many innocents in the process. There was no way of keeping them warm after they were born save placin' them near the ovens, no way to help them along on the first days of their life except by the way other babies had been cared for. When I first, started to look around at the hospitals near us, the closest one would ha to be Portland's for any type of care that our wee ones would need. If things went right, it would be a harrowing ride there, an if it all went wrong, I would lose ye all. I had a word with Seth, and he said that while the

hospital here had space, they didn't ha the funding for such a venture. There things were outdated, and people lived or died by what they managed to do on their own. Aye, they had a critical care unit, an they ha helped Jordan- but there were things – other things tha' the hospital didn't ha that could have helped her better. So, I had a word with your grandfather, and together we came up with a plan to help out the hospital, an the community an give, our children a chance when they are born. He's matched the funds that I ha' put into this project, an while this seems like a grand empty room now – it will be the new neonatal care center for the hospital. We've

already made purchases of new equipment…" he paused seeing the frown on her face.

"How long have you been doing this?" she inquired tilting her head. Her voice was low, and he couldn't read the emotions in it.

"Oh, since we got back. They've put some of the things that were purchased to use already, Ruthie spent her first few days of life in one of the new incubators, they ha' one, an the chances are having two babies who may need one, well, aye, the other was in use when she came. Even Frank, when we needed to do the microsurgery last night. Imagine a pair of scissors that can be directed to where you need them to be with a tiny twist, an cut so small that the next thing it does is deliver a tiny drop of a type of sealer the body will absorb when it all heals up. That one pair of scissor would cost several thousand dollars, but it would help the person heal faster, and ha less trauma to the body an it could get to places that other scissors could never reach with out cutting through more tissue than what needed to be. I wanted all of this to be done afore I told you, but seeing how you had thoughts I was spending the money on things of a different battle, I thought you should know."

Taylor heard the hurt in his voice as he lowered his head to gaze at the floor. Glancing about she saw double doors to a balcony outside. Taking his hand she lead him outside and made sure they wouldn't be locked out, she closed the doors and leaned against the rails.

"Husband, Oliver found enough, weapons and C4 and, other things to outfit a small army. Mort found information, and on some of the pages of the files, were terms in Gaelic, cities in Ireland were where some of the guns came from. The earliest date was from the time you arrived in the states to close up the shops. There was a massive amount of money that went into those things. At first – well, I thought it was Fordham's connection with this town, or maybe Earl had something to do with it. The gun purchases continued after their deaths, though. There are only two people in Cabot cove that would have those types of connection, you, and George. There would be only one person, though, in Cabot Cove that could buy and bring in that many of them, and that's you… and the dates matched those on the account." Taylor stepped back as she saw Willie struggling to say something.

"How did you find them?" he asked finally.

"Oliver, found where Frank had been hurt, and tracked Brad to his locker, then to one of the lockers that held the gun, and she sneezed from the graphite. We went around to every place that she sneezed, and found them. You knew Sydney had been trained for gun oil, and that was the first thing I trained Oliver for. Most dogs wouldn't know it. Why, Willie? Help me understand."

"I can't, Wife…"

Taylor backed away holding her belly. "DON'T CALL ME THAT!" she gasped leaning against the rail. Gathering herself she continued "And don't come home."

Willie crossed the distance between them and placed both of his hands on her shoulders. "You will listen to me, Wife, before you decided that for certain. Aye, I purchased what you found there, have been for the last four years. I can't explain all of my reasons just now. I was sure to keep records of every purchase, and the numbers on the bills that were spent buying them. I've arranged with a number of banks to track that money, and to record the accounts that it goes to. Those who sold me the guns, aye, they saw me as a Mc who was going it alone to keep his clan safe. Did ye bother to look up, or ask what the gaelic meant? It says 'disposed of.' Once there was enough of them, there were arrangements made to put them in old crates and dump them into the deepest part of the ocean, an' the salt water an'

graphite would cause the guns to become bits of rusty metal in a few hours. I was working to get the guns off of the streets and to a place where they couldn't harm any one anymore, an' the C4 was there in case we had things so bad they needed to be destroyed in a hot fire."

Taylor tilted her head, not understanding.

"There are all sorts of weapons, wife. An' I came across a fair few of them that couldn't be tossed in the water. C4 is a small hot blast that kills the bioorganics ."

"Who knew of this?" Taylor asked softly. Willie drew in a breath.

"Only the man helping me here in Cabot Cove, an' his son. They made arrangements through Earl to gather any old crates - they told him it was for their bonfires on the beach, an he didna care. His son an he would take the guns out an' dump them. They would ha' been out of the school two weeks ago, but his son, was deployed after we were married, an' then another order came in early. They were to be moved this weekend for sure. He was coming home an' everything is prepared."

Closing her eyes she lowered her head then raised it to look him in the eye. "The guns that Brad had, that shot Harrison, came from that batch of guns. Mort followed the information that he found in the cell phone that was left in Tipper's bathroom. That cell phone was owned by Brad, and the reason why Frank was beaten up. Willie, even though you didn't mean for this all to happen, it did. I don't know how you bought the guns, if there is a felony involved, but you could lose your license. I am suspecting there are things your not telling me ... still."

She saw Willie blink in confusion. "Cell phones? Ach na, we didn't use them. We ha our own tabors of communicating, through. It was our own, an even his son didna know the code we had made for when a shipment was ready, or when it was going to go out. If there was a cell phone involved, it wasn't of ours. An' without speaking to the other one, I don't know about the person who started telling what was to be secret within the clan."

"Why didn't you tell me when I asked? " she said simply.

"If ye didna know, you couldn't be held for it, wife. Only the man who is helping me, his son, an' … well Tipper knows. I had ta ask her about the effects of the metal and how to make the sea life take it over the fastest, an' while I'm steady on much of the world there are things I wasn't sure of. She's of the clan."

For the longest time Taylor stood shivering in the brisk air. Finally she shook her head slowly. "For now, I think it best if you stayed at the shop, or a bed and breakfast. I'll give Donald a call later, and speak with him… and you will need to speak with Mort, or George ..."

Pushing Willie back she went into the neonatal unit and to the elevator. As she turned and the doors slid closed she saw his face, and the tears that fell from his eyes.

Tipper dusted off her hands and looked about. With George's help they had managed to get a piece of plywood in the section where the freezer door had broken. While it wouldn't save the food behind it, it would preserve the unit's integrity until another replacement could be obtained. George had dug the bullet out of the stone wall and packaged it for Mort. Seeing the keys on the dryer, she picked them up. "Ok, gang, we're good here- I think its time to lock up, and head home. Who's hungry for pizza?"

Instead of a chorus of excited children she found herself looking at them as they exchanged glances. "What?" she asked. " Its past lunch and you need to eat something besides cocoa and chips."

"Uncle would have us eat something sensible for lunch," Emmie spoke up finally.

_`Angela, I need a clan word with ye…' he had said as they walked along the path behind Mither's place to the barns to see the new kittens. Raising her eyebrow she nodded. She was still numb from the events, and something as normal as seeing newborn kittens was exactly what she needed._

_`I'm listening,' she had said, curious as to how serious he was._

_`I'm a bit involved in a project, an' I want to be sure that it's finished right. Sort of a reclamations back to the earth. I've great quantity's of steel that I want to reduce back to rust, an I've been using salt water to do it, but, its taking longer than I would like. What would aid it, an' would it endanger the waters if, say, a ton or more went down in it?"_

_Shrugging, Tipper regarded him. "Any mineral, really. What's on the steel now?" She watched as Willie pressed his lips together. "High grade oil." It was said in such a way that Tipper knew what the oil covered. "Why?" she blurted at last._

_"If I had my wits about me, an' did this long ago perhaps …" he drew out a sigh. "I'm sorry, it's wrong of me to ask this of you. I've taken a vow to protect life, an' healing just doesn't seem to be all that I can do. Getting them off the streets, I can do that. Finding a deep hole where the sea tears them apart – I don't know of any other way to stop what happens Angela. I know I can't get every single one off of the face of the earth, but by the children that are to be, I want to lessen the chance that one will claim them."_

_"Graphite," Tipper said at last. "It gets over everything, and sticks to it. Not only will the steel rust, but things will grow from it as well." She sighed. "Are you sure about this?" she asked at last, watching Willie nod._

_"Aye."_

Mistaking her pause for lack of understanding what a sensible meal was, Patty patted Tippers hand. "Tis all right Dr. Tipper, Aunt Taylor has provisions in her cupboard that can see us through."

Nodding, Tipper counted heads, then shooed them out to lock up. She was puzzled when the keys on the ring didn't work.

"Maybe they were the old set? Or to his house?" inquired George. Tipper glanced at him nodding, then saw a set hanging behind the counter. That set fit.

"We can let Mort know we have these when we get to the house. Okay, you all know the drill, Patty, Ian up front and the rest climb in the back and strap in."

She looked at George who raised his eyebrow as he realized he would have to walk back up the hill. "I have some business to attend to here," he said with a small nod. Tipper glanced back through her rear view mirror and saw George looking long and hard at something he held in his hand. She knew it had to be the bullet that he had dug out of the wall. A fragmented memory came to the surface as she drove them up the hill to where Taylor's home was.

_"No, I haven't found them yet, or who's responsible… Yes, this is a small town and three and a half tons of that type of weapons and the biohazards would be hard to hide… Yes sir, I understand the urgency with this, and it would have been a bit easier if the only contact that we had with this went overseas and out of our jurisdiction."_

_Exasperated. George turned to find Tipper regarding him with a slight raised eyebrow. "I will, as soon as I know." Even at the distance that she was at, Tipper could hear the sharp disconnect from the other side of Jessica's parlor. She had come to borrow a book on organic poisons she knew Jessica had. George had arrived unexpectedly with the children in tow for Willie and Taylor, but she didn't know he was still visiting._

_"I have some business to attend to here," he said a bit stiffly. "And you would be well to handle this as if you knew nothing of the sorts."_

_For a fleeting moment Tipper puzzled over what she had heard, not making the connection until George strode past her. Sitting down in the nearest chair she covered her face with her hands. She didn't know if to laugh, or scream. Willie said nothing of biohazards. No one from the town that she knew of was overseas- it couldn't be the same batch. From what Willie had said, he had been collecting the guns, and dumping them for years. She would have to get word to Willie that this would have to be the last batch- that they were on to him… But no one in the clan would tell. She didn't know where the guns were - she didn't want to know. She knew that if Willie was doing what he said then, well…Pressing her eyes closed she willed back tears. Faraday might still be alive. That had been the motivation she had had when Willie came to her for advice. She couldn't tell George. Willie would just have to finish this last one, and be done with it. With no trail to follow, he could wait, and maybe resume it in a few years. It couldn't be him though, it had to be the tree hugger group that they had encountered before. Willie just wasn't into that much, and it would cost a fortune. _

_`Damn, If I tell Willie what I over heard, then, what then? … I can't tell any one. Not til I figure this out."_

Patty pulled out the key she wore about her neck, then saw Oliver on the other side of the door wagging her tiny tail. "Aunt Taylor must be home, but uncle must still have her car," she said, opening the door.

Tipper was the last to enter in the house, and saw the crumpled tissues that had missed the trash basket in the kitchen. Scooping them up to place them in the trash, Tipper felt they were still damp. "Patty, why don't you start that sensible lunch, the others can help," she said, moving through the living room then up the steps to the bedroom. She could see Taylor laying on her side through the open door and the shake of her shoulders informed Tipper that she was crying.

Closing the door she strode across the room and pulled up the chair to sit beside Taylor. Reaching over she gently placed her hand on Taylor's shoulder and squeezed it supportively. "Hey… Hey… You'll just give the babies hiccups that way, you know…"

Taylor looked at Tipper, a coldness in her eyes. "Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you tell him it was a bad idea?"

Taking in a breath, Tipper knew exactly what Taylor was talking about. "Because I had just lost Faraday, and getting every gun off of the face of the earth was the only way I could feel hope again," Tipper blurted. Tipper saw the coldness leave Taylor's eyes to be replaced with a sadness. Tipper continued. "And Willie took steps to trace the money that was spent, and the accounts that it went into. The

government and Scotland Yard couldn't do what he managed to do - take over three and a half tons of weapons and get rid of them. I can't condemn him for that."

"George knows about this?" Taylor asked, half sitting up in bed. She saw Tipper close her eyes.

"He… he doesn't know it's Willie doing this. It could be the treehugger group that he is investigating, I don't know. How did you find out?"

Shrugging, Taylor laid back down again. "Mort and I found guns in the spare lockers at the school- they matched the information that was in the cell phone, but a good many of them are still unaccounted for. The guns that Brad used were from that list. I don't know if I want to hear how the sword ended up in Brad's belly, do I?"

"Not til you have something sensible to eat in you. So… what are you going to do?" Tipper asked carefully.

"I've put a call into Donald, and ... I've told Willie not to come home."

Patrick McKee strode through the halls of the hospital, and used his key to access the upper floors where he knew the person he wished to see would be waiting. Pushing open the doors to the neonatal wing he watched Taylor come from the outside balcony, and saw the tears on both of their faces. The workmen nodded to

him. Inspections from the fire company were often about - there were many wires and systems that were exposed, and it was up to them to see that everything was meeting code.

Going out onto the balcony McKee saw the grief Willie was going through.

_`Give a hand up,' the young intern had said to McKee as he worked his way through the rubble of the latest bombing. Reaching down McKee had pulled up a slight build fellow who wore a leather sack over his shoulder. McKee had recognized the sack as that belonging to a healer, one trained in the old ways. They were an odd team, one massively large, the other the size of a child, but between them they worked through the rubble and extracted one person after another. "I wish there was a way to end all of this, just- take them all and dump them into the deepest part of the ocean and let the waters do the rest," McKee had said as they folded the body bag over the shattered form of a young child. He found Willie looking at him oddly._

_"Would ye help if there was a way, to protect you an yours?" _

_McKee thought of his sons, knowing the call to do the right thing, to serve was great in their blood. It was with a single nod of his head that he agreed, not knowing if Willie was a devil or an angel who had come on the earth. _

They had worked out a silent code to communicate over lunch, in crowded buildings, and become so adept, like ladies who could knit in the dark, that they could be working the code and speaking about something totally different, and unless one knew to follow the workings of the fingers, it would go unnoticed. The first years were spent gathering information and contacts - it wasn't enough just to get the weapons off the streets, they needed a way to gather all of those involved in a large net, to prove where the money was being spent. At first there were a few dozen that they got, and renting a boat took them out to the farthest place they knew of, and tossed them over board. They had to change dumping places, and when Willie had discovered larger groups of weapons that could be purchased they knew they needed deeper waters. Colder waters so that the curious wouldn't find them on treasure hunting expeditions. They had used Cabot Cove because the old town had the type of old sewage pipes that a man could pass through. They could only move the guns during the summer, when there were a lot of boats coming and going and McKee with his sons on a fishing trip wouldn't be noticed. His boat was small, yet, deep, and he would go out, dump the crates then bring back a few for the beach party that would follow. He had been at the school, finishing up preparations for the weekend's dump when Mort and the others had arrived. He knew he could get out the door, but once it was locked he would have no way of getting back in. Taking a deep breath he gathered the pack of C4 and using gloves he placed it in the lock of the door. If necessary he would be able to go back later and get the guns, if he could, but he knew they would lock down the school. He was the janitor, he was allowed to be there- being a volunteer fireman too gave him access to other buildings, the emergency dispatch system, and access to the sewer lines that they used to go from the school down to the docks to get the weapons on the boat in the late night hours. He was careful to take all of the c4 with him, and to use the wipes Willie had created to get the smell off of his clothing. While they had no plans to do wrong with anything they had managed to find, people could think otherwise.

"(Bad?)" he tapped on the rail. He watched Willie nod once. "(How did Mort find out?)" he tapped.

"(Cell phone had pictures, and the records…)

"Damn." Breathed McKee. "Eric's phone." His oldest, Eric, had helped him without question to unload the guns, and to reload them on the boat. He wouldn't take his sons out though, too much of a risk if the boat was spotted. As for the last batch, he had been out at a fire, and Eric had just nodded, retrieving the guns from the sewer and bringing them up into the school with his brother Carl. Patrick had checked the next morning as he could, and all seemed in order. Eric had been called up to attend classes before being deployed. He was careful to go down the lockers with the wipes. His cell phone had been missing the next day, though he said he didn't know where it was, and when he had the chance McKee would check the lost and found and the grounds. He'd found it the night before, the battery dead on the lawn in the bushes. It had only been luck that he saw it shining in the moonlight, the night's rains having made the surface reflective. It was by accident that the information even got on the phone. Eric had been showing him the wireless transfer of the unit, and it had downloaded the information from the computer they were using to keep the records on in a heartbeat. He said that he had deleted them. But the odd look his son gave him later- he didn't know. The cell would have to go down with the guns as well.

"(Brad Jamison… Did Eric know him?)" tapped Willie. McKee nearly fell to his knees. He felt the surprising strength of Willie's hand catch him, support him and guide him to where there was a cinder block to sit on.

"Aye," he breathed, then realized why Brad was there, and the guns that had been found.

"(They haven't connected you. I will na give you up,)" Willie tapped on his knee. "(If we can, we move them this afternoon, the way they came in, if we can.)"

Mort followed the directions the staff nurse had given him, getting up to the neonatal ward in time to see Willie sitting on the balcony with a fireman on a cinder block. The men were deep in discussion, Willie's hand moving with a nervous twitching. Opening the door he heard Willie asking about the structural damage to the shop, and the repair options. The fireman nodded to Mort, then told Willie he would get the information for him and deliver it later. Mort watched as the burly man moved with quiet ease across the floor to the elevators before taking the same cinder block he had been sitting on.

"You could have told me that a team from Portland would be coming to work on Brad," he said dryly.

"You're a smart man, Mort. I'd been in surgery for the whole night an' then just with Harrison. The resection that Brad needs would take half a day. I couldn't do that an' not make mistakes."

"Mmm… What does 'Mill creach' mean?"

Willie looked at him directly and said in a soft voice, _"Diúscrófar iad trína milleadh ar mhodh a chinnteoidh nach ndéanfar difear dá rúnmhaireacht agus nach mbeidh a n-ábhar infhionnta; _they shall be disposed of by being destroyed in a manner which ensures that their confidentiality is not affected and that their contents are not ascertainable."

"Are they?" Mort asked, tilting his head.

Willie didn't answer at first. "You'd want proof, an' names, an' I can only tell you that this is far larger than what you're able to deal with. Even George can't help."

"Seeing how he's involved with your aunt, he would do what he could so they might not throw the book at you, I suppose. But…" Mort shrugged before he saw Willie shaking his head.

"George has his own reason for being here, and while it may tie into what you've uncovered, it will lead him on a path he won't want to follow. Aye, I'm involved, an' if you take me in to make the law feel better it won't help matters. I'm na asking for favors in this, only time so that it can be completed. An' the end did na come because it was found out - it came because of what was found out."

There was no deception in his eyes, Mort had seen desperate men, men who had faced death, men who were cold blooded killers. Willie's eyes were unblinking, red rimmed and filled with a great sadness that he could only guess the depths of. Taylor had used a taxi to go home, not wanting Mort to take her - he had seen her leave, the evidence of her tears. Whatever Willie had said had broken her heart. She had discovered what he was doing, had been troubled enough by it to tell Mort and it placed him in a peculiar place.

"It goes beyond what any on of us can get to," he said to Willie at last. "Did you know when you started this?" He watched as Willie breathed out, then in slowly.

"Not specifics. Mort, I'm afraid for Taylor, and the children now, an' for you an' everyone else who has worked their way through this. It was thought if there was one less, perhaps the children could live another day."

"How did Brad get a hold of three of them? And armor piercing ammunition?"

The confusion on Willies face was genuine. "There were no ammunitions with them. We knew that we couldn't dispose of that with out harming something. This is far from a simple answer Mort. Will ye be locking me away tonight? If so, I still ha' to stop an pick up a toothbrush. Wife no longer wants me to come home. I don't

know how she will manage the children on her own, or the triplets when they come. You can lock me up forever if you like, but, na seeing them again, not having her love in my life, is far worse than any court could do."

The library's computers were by far the slowest things George had ever accessed. The only ones they had which had enough memory to handle the type of work he was doing were the ones on dial up. The high speed wireless ones had been taken down by a particular virus they couldn't isolate, one that had hit them so hard it left most of the main frame computers crippled. Things were slowly coming back up

on line. Glancing at the down load logs for the computer he was on, George saw something. A program had started to download, but because of the dial up connection it would be 2 hours and 50 minutes before it was completed. Peeking inside, he knew what it was.

Sighing George disconnected the modem. "Damn," he muttered to himself. Reconnecting the modem, he saw that the download of the program had been halted, and was trying to restart. Pulling out his thumb drive he placed it into the usb port and instructed it to download to that instead. Some one was making things difficult. The virus was a seeker - it would find any reference to certain information, and delete it. He had a fair idea that it had a connection to the Razor phone that Mort had mentioned. Accessing the records of the computer, he did his own search of the computer's history and found a website url that was listed as Brad's Boogie Joint. Taking a breath he clicked it, and was taken to a page that said Parent Directory. There were hundreds of pages. Clicking one, he opened the picture and sat back. The only way that the site had been saved from the virus was that Brad had taken the time to change the names of the items to nonsense words. He clicked another link. This one caused him to lean forward and adjust his reading glasses. They were bank account numbers, with the listing of bills, the trace of where each of the bills went, and the names of the people that were connected with the accounts. George swallowed. The information terrified him

as a person, and outraged him as an officer of the law.

A quiet click on the computer informed him the download was complete, did he want to install? George removed the thumb drive and pocketed it. Rebooting the computer he used the virus removal tool to discard the exe codes for it, then sat back with a sigh. He needed to see to things. He knew who he could trust, but those people wouldn't be able to help at all. Involving them would only bring further difficulties.

Going back to Jessica's place he pulled his suitcase from the closet and began to fold his cloths. He heard a quiet footstep behind him, one so familiar that it hurt to turn around to face its owner.

Jessica stood in the doorway holding his cell phone. There was a look on her face that he couldn't read, beyond that she was disappointed in him.

"Ah, so you found it," he said, not moving.

Jessica nodded. "It fell out of your coat pocket when I went into the shower this morning. Thinking it was one of the children's toys I opened it up… and I saw the text messages. How long had you planned on using me to investigate this?"

"Jessica, that was never in the plan. My feelings for you are honest. It was by chance that this case lead me here, and I had no choice in the matter. I still don't. I can only tell you that you must forget what you have seen in there, and tell no one."

"That you're a gun smuggler?"

"Dearest, those aren't all of the files. I've only just learned of others that weren't in among those, and well, needless to say, you are in harm's way from those who want the truth to be suppressed. If there is any clue as to what this all means, open the phone and try to access the photos."

Jessica blinked back her tears as she flipped open the phone and clicked the slide show button. A blue screen and NO IMAGES FOUND came up. She looked at him. "They were there…"

He nodded. "I know. If they exist again, its because the original name was changed." He held up the thumb drive. "This has the program used to wipe out the information. It was downloaded while I was researching the bullet that went through Harrison Bishop, and it has the IP address of the people who wrote and sent the virus out. While the information has been wiped out, someone took great pains to preserve it as well. Their lives are at risk as well."

Crossing the room he kissed her gently. "I don't want them to trace me here. They wouldn't care if you're famous, you would be found in a way that natural causes would be listed on your death certificate, and I couldn't bear to know I was the cause of it."

Jessica leaned against him. " Before you go, you need to speak with Taylor," she said softly. "I… I will finish packing for you."

Ian sat on the steps of the deck regarding the plants that grew under the wide cheese cloth cover that protected them from the birds and the deer. He glanced up as a shadow fell over his path.

"Budge over," Willie said softly as he sat beside Ian.

Ian wiped his face with the back of his hand. "I suppose, ye need a word with me, about what I said to Aunt Jessica… I heard you telling George ye would."

"Ah, well, that… I won't scold you for speaking the truth, only that as a proper young man, those things are not spoken of to the lady folk. Molly told me what ye said to her this morning, an all that happened. Ye are very brave, to have done what you did. An' I need to ask ye to be a bit more brave when I say what I must. I… I need to be traveling a bit, to finish things up. I don't know how long I will be, but I would ask it of you to take care of the Clan while I'm gone."

"The whole Clan?" Ian goggled.

Willie nodded. "Gram may be coming in a few days to help Wife. If I don't come back, Ian, it's nae from lack of loving you all. It's because I'm na able. I.. I did some things with good intentions, and it led down a path I couldn't get off of, an the end of the path isn't the safest of journeys."

"Do ye ha to go to the… the place where Granpa Toot is?" Ian asked.

Willie shook his head. "No," he said carefully, "but if I am able to finish this path right, those who are at the wrong end of it will be punished properly."

Ian studied him "Tha's brave of ye. Aunt Taylor doesn't understand, does she?"

Willie kissed Ian's forehead. "No, she doesn't. It's safer for ye if I go, and go I must."

Ian wrapped his arms about Willie's body and gave him a hug. For the longest time Willie held him then wiped away Ian's tears. "Men do cry," he said at last.

Standing up, Willie went into the house and up the steps to where Taylor was laying on the bed with Emmie and Margarita curled next to her.

"George was here," Taylor said softly, blinking back her tears. "He said he found the same lists that Mort had, and that he knows a lot of the people on the list. That your work uncovered some things that were …" She stopped, not able to continue.

"Wife, the last of the things hit the bottom of the sea half an hour ago. Save for three of them that Mort has, and maybe they would be enough as proof to tie things together. What started as a noble plan became something more that couldn't be stopped. I'm going back with George, to gather the rest of the proof. I don't know if my life will be done an' over before I hit the shore, but I must go… I need you to know that I ha' loved you from the moment I saw you, an' I will always love you. If it comes to past, tha' I canna walk on the earth with ye I will ask the Angels to let me walk beside ye for the rest of the time, if ye'll have me."

Taylor gulped back her tears. "I will split sea and sky if you do not return to me," she said at last.

Willie gathered her up in his arms, hugging her as their tears mixed. Pressing his lips one last time to her belly he looked up at her. "I will be with ye when the wee ones come to this world," he said at last. He gave Emmie and Margarita a kiss, then hugged Patty and Shauna and Ian as they came into the room. Tipper stood in the doorway blocking his exit. She hugged him tightly then watched him go down the steps. She knew he had to travel fast and light, and as the door closed behind him she went to Taylor with the children and sat on the end of the bed. Taylor gave a wounded cry as George's car left the curb. Tipper watched the children hug her as she let her grief go.

George's call to his supervisor was brief. He had discovered the first physical proof of the weapons, and just as he was accessing the information to confirm it, a virus had wiped out all traces of it. He was waiting for instructions. There was a sigh at the other end, then, "Come home, then."

He looked at Willie. "Are you sure about this? There isn't any evidence link now…officially."

"Our paths crossed in this for a reason, George. It's what we can do to make it right, and safe."

George nodded. The parting with Jessica had been bitter sweet. The words that he had with Taylor had informed her that Willie had done the extraordinary, but they would have to finish it in their own way. "Right, then," he said, closing his cell phone and dropping it into his pocket.

McKee sat back on the edge of his boats rail regarding the twilight, waiting. He knew Mort was a smart man. He knew that the tapes in the office would show him dropping the guns down the main drain . Lucky that they had taken the guns to the

Gym - it saved him time and trouble to locate them to get them on the cart they had constructed to get the things through the tunnel as fast as possible. Shame of it was, the cart was now in the bottom of the ocean, as was his son's cell phone. Even the gloves that he wore and the clothing he had used were all gone.

He saw Mort striding down the docks to his boat. Pausing, he regarded McKee. "No fish?" he asked, bemused.

McKee shrugged. "Not the right bait, I suppose."

For a moment Mort regarded him. "I pulled the tapes, when the guns went missing. All that I could see was a blob on the lens. Guess they need to be cleaned…"

"Good job for the Janitor to do." He nodded, watching Mort's expression.

For a moment Mort didn't say anything. "Four years ago, I found myself wondering who in this town I could trust with my life. Nightshade had taken over so deep, I didn't think that Cabot Cove would be the same. I learned about loyalty, and what was important to protect the children. I'm,glad to know, there are others who share that with me."

Tipping his cowboy hat slightly, Mort wished McKee goodnight and strolled down the docks whistling a nameless tune. McKee closed his eyes, feeling, suddenly glad himself.


	2. Chapter 2

The Gathering, Part Two – Asarlaí

_-by Kath_

"Hurry up Frank, you will miss the bus!" called Donna, hearing Frank's footsteps walk across the upstairs to the stair well. There was no hurrying him though. Since his return from the hospital the energetic child she had once known- saw things differently, had become silent, and searching, for something. He had missed a week of school, but had been able to catch up quickly. The leaves were long since swirling down the road and the bite of the winters winds were moving in. In a week would be the Thanksgiving break, then, back until the Christmas holidays.

Donna watched as he moved across the room to bend over his little sisters bassinet and deliver a kiss to her forehead. Planting a kiss on Donna's cheek he gave his dad a hug and patted Lucky on the head. Grady had his coat on, and with practiced ease swung Frank's back pack on to his shoulder and carried it out the door. Bits of hills confounded Frank if he was carrying things. Seth had said his balance would be off for a while until the bones healed in his face. While gym class was required, there wasn't a lot he could do. Contact sports were out. Bumps and falls were

something that terrified Donna. They had come very close to losing him. She wasn't being an over protective mother. Just his mother.

Frank looked up at his dad, asking him as the bus pulled in, "Think Willie will be home for Thanksgiving?"

Grady shook his head. "I don't know." He gave Frank a kiss on his forehead then helped him climb the steps onto the bus. Waiting until it was out of sight Grady used the time to let the tears that pressed behind his eyelids to subside. It had been two and a half months since Willie had departed with George. He knew George was back to work, and he could often track where Willie was by the bank accounts. Mort had never asked him, as Willies accountant, if he had noticed any missing money from the account. He had, though. He had found it right away, and the look Willie gave him told him everything he should know. The safety of the children was what was important.

Patty helped Frank to find his seat and dragged the back pack to where they would be sitting. Molly would be the next stop, as weird as it would have seemed, since the first week she had changed from being a self centered brat to being… well, a brat. Just not to Ian though, or the girls. Or Frank for that matter. Frank looked around. "Where is Ian?" he asked, blinking owlishly at the girls.

"Has an appointment with Dr. Seth, then Aunt Taylor will be bringing him to school for a half day," said Shauna with uncertainty.

"He didn't seem sick yesterday…" intoned Molly, raising her eyebrows. They had a huge test in the morning in mathematics that morning. If he was sick enough to go to the doctors he would miss the test and have to retake it the next day when everyone was at the assembly. She watched Shauna shrug.

"Aunt Taylor called the school yesterday when he got home, an they made arrangements for him to take the test last night, so that it would be fair. He did quite well on it."

Frank nestled back in the seat of the bus not really paying attention to what the girls were saying. As the bus slowed to make the turn up the coast road Frank regarded the huge Willow tree that grew along the ragged coast line. Aunt Jessica had informed him that it was one of the oldest trees in the cove, that it had seen the coming of the settlers, and even before. No one knew why it grew so high away from the water between two large boulders. The wind blowing the branches

almost made it seem alive, as if there really was a wizard that lived in the tree. As Frank watched it, part of the tree seemed to separate, and a thin being stepped out from its bark. For the longest

time Frank couldn't move. Blinking back his surprise he saw the thin being fade back into the wood as the bus continued down the coastline road to the school.

Ian wiggled in his seat at Seth's office. He knew the others would be taking that test right about then, and he wished he was there, rather than where he was. Willie had given specific instructions for the type of blood work he needed, and when. He didn't like the needles that poked into his skin, or anything else that was to do with it. He had tried to toss the appointment card, and when the message was left on the answering machine, he had taken pains to erase it. He didn't want to answer the simple question of how he felt, because he knew he couldn't lie to Dr. Seth. Since his uncle had gone, he had fought not to cry in front of the girls, or his aunt. Tipper, though, had caught him more than once while he was in the garden collecting the seeds for the next year and drying the herbs on his knees crying. She had taken him into her arms and held him until the sobs subsided. It was more than just missing his uncle. Aunt Taylor was a wonderful person, and looking at Aunt Jessica was almost like looking at his gram. She had her own sadness with George going, and her book tours took her away for long weeks. He missed his

mum fiercely. He had no doubt that she still loved him, loved all of them, and even with all the money they had, she couldn't manage the new baby brother he had never seen with the girls as well.

He rather liked his new life in America. He didn't go to bed hungry, didn't have to wear hand me down clothing, and while things were bound to be crowded, he had his own space that Taylor had arranged with the bunk beds shed put in the room for the kids- he had a lower bunk with Patty on top, and each of them had a curtained off area about their bed for privacy. The endless hot water in the morning was a joy, though the bitter cold of the Maine fall cut through him to the bone. He had mentioned this as a question to Patty, she said she didn't feel the cold. He wasn't going to say anything to his aunt, but the next day they were off to the store to get winter jackets. Taylor made sure that the ones the girls picked from were made to protect from the elements, though she saw Margarita eye a cute pink bunny fur one that was just fluff, Taylor had to sigh and shake her head and got her one that matched the other girls.

Ian had looked at the ones in the children's department, for the boys. Ian wasn't into racing cars, or the jazzy things, She saw him sigh, and look at the jackets with a wistful glance. Raising her eyebrow she took him across to the young men's department and found him a dark leather jacket with a fleece inside and a proper hood that he could protect his head with. It was the warmest, softest thing he had ever felt. It also hung down to his knees, though with a thick sweater on he didn't feel lost in it. It was by chance he saw the tag dangling and his eyes widened with shock as he shook his head "Oh, nae, Aunt Taylor, " he said, shaking his head in disbelief. She laid a finger to his lips, and sat down on the edge of the display to regard him.

"Your not putting on airs when your wearing this, your keeping your body safe, and it's a sensible jacket. The girls are content with theirs, would you be happy with this one?"

He'd given her a curious look. "Would Uncle be pleased that I would have it?" he asked at last.

Taylor cupped his small face in her hands. "He would."

Ian hadn't been cold after that, and there were some nights that he would go down, and just put his jacket on, pulling his thin legs in the jacket for warmth. It had raised a few eyebrows with his classmates as he got off the bus the first day he wore it. "I won't blow away now," he had said with a nod to the jacket.

Ian knew he was next to see Dr. Seth. Slinking down in the jacket now he peaked over the edge of it hoping to hide from the nurse. Taylor had gone to the lady's room he could sneak out for a tich, wait outside until someone else came in, and then pretend it was all over. Sighing he knew he couldn't run from his troubles. He looked up as a tall thin man entered into the waiting room limping as he came in. The man wore a scarf high on his neck, and Ian could see patches

of something white under the mans hat. Swallowing for courage Ian was about to get up when he heard the man begin to speak in a low halting voice, asking to see Seth followed by a half moan from the man. The nurse was about to tell him to have a seat when Seth came in the reception office and nodded to his nurse that he would see the man right away.

Taylor came back into the waiting room and sat down beside Ian who was curled up in the chair still trying to disappear in the coat itself. She pulled back the hood. "You need to breathe, honey," she said, gently kissing his forehead.

"Aye, I know… you could take m' appointment for me, tis been a while since ye had a checkup for the babies," he said, pointing to her belly.

Her laughter was sweet, and light and it caused the man to half turn to look at her as she tousled Ian's hair. "It was just last week dear. This ones yours then off to school for you."

Ian snuggled next to Taylor and sighed. He was glad he didn't hang his coat up with the others. It was soft, and warm, and it had a sweet smell to it. He thought, if he lay still enough, they would

think him to be asleep, and maybe forgo his appointment. He felt Taylor kiss his head softly.. "Its your time Ian."

He yawned, stretching like a cat. "Must I?" he asked at last. Taylor gave a wistful nod. Ian sighed as he stood up and went in to where they were to weigh and measure him. Shivering he peeled off the coat and handed it to Taylor. "Keep it warm for me… I'm going to be climbing back in it soon enough." Taylor tried not to laugh as Ian stuck out his belly to make himself fatter. And it took a moment for the nurse to realize that he was standing on his tip toes to make himself taller. Blood work was next, and as she held him on her lap he hid his face in her shoulder trying not to cry. He didn't know what hurt worse, the thing that they put around his arm, or the seven times they tried to find a vein that wouldn't collapse on them. When it was finally in he lay limp in Taylor's arms fighting back the urge to cry.

"You won't be able to go in with him when we do the tests," said Grace, the technician who wrapped a heated blanket about Ian's shoulders. Seth patted her shoulder. "It's okay. He won't be alone."

Tipper rolled across the vet office floor with Margarita on her lap as she reached for the ringing phone. As she lifted it to her ear to answer it, Margarita chirped, "Thank you for calling Cabot Cove Vet Clinic, please hold" Tipper handed Margarita another gummy bear, then spoke into the phone. It was to be her day off and she had agreed to watch Margarita while Taylor took Ian to the doctor's. What hadn't been planned was for Janice to get the flu and call off on the day she was to work the phones. Short of locking Margarita up in one of the pens, the other place where she couldn't get out of was the enclosed area where the receptionist sat. It had been open at one

time, then after a few loose animals got behind the counter and began to eat anything not tied down the owners of the clinic installed the swing door that latched firmly from the top.

Margarita wasn't into coloring, or sitting quiet. There were far too many things her little fingers could get into. Too many things that could go wrong with such a young child. Tipper didn't even want to think about it. She glanced down and looked into Margarita's eyes, there was a twinkle in them, one she had seen not so long ago in another person's eyes, one that caused her to falter, collect her thoughts, then close her eyes against the memory of the last time she had held Faraday in her arms. Until that moment, Margarita had been like any other child. Margarita had taken Tipper's face in her small hands and given her chin a kiss.

Seth had said that Margarita would only parrot things. While that may have been true, Tipper discovered quickly that in the same process, Margarita would respond on cue to different things. The most extraordinary sound that came from her happened when two of the dogs who were known for scrapping with anything in their path decided to pull away from their owners and lunge at each other. Margarita had been sitting up on the desk at the time, leaned over and gave a

series of sharp barks to the dogs. All hostilities between the dogs stopped and both went back to their owners to sit quietly beside them. Dusting off her hands, Margarita nodded.

`Perhaps she speaks her own language?' Tipper had thought. `Or if it is a case of her being able to mimic something the dogs recognize?' The phone rang again, it was after hearing the dial tone that Tipper realized Margarita had made that sound. Half way through the time that Margarita would be with her, she snuggled into Tipper's arms, gave a yawn and fell asleep in a heart beat. She really did have his upturned nose and long lashes. `She could have been – my – our child… I'm not made to be a mother though…" Feeling, something, Tipper looked up and held back her gasp. Faraday was standing at her counter his elbow supporting his chin. "Aye, it might have been, an' had I known, things would ha' been different. I didna know she was mine when I took care of her after she was born. He said she came to him in a peculiar way an to be quiet about her

so she could find her soul self. I knew he had her up in the rooms, but didna know the state he kept her in later on. I taught her how to pick the locks with wha' she had on hand, the little monkey love, for I found he wasn't inclined to feed her an she had to manage on what she could get from the kitchens when he was asleep. You're more made to be a mother than most, an your heart loves those long forgotten. Someday, your heart will open again, Angela, an you will find your love. I'm glad she's with kin. It was the best I could hope for…Mind the Asarlaí," he said, softly coming around behind her to envelope her in a soft hug. Tipper could feel his lips press against the crown of her head, and saw him bend over his daughter to give her a kiss. She heard the ringing of the telephone and woke with a small start.

`Had to be a dream,' she said to herself as she collected her thoughts. Jotting down the information she set the record aside, then looked by chance to the corner where he had been leaning on. There was a wrist-sized daisy chain in fresh condition.

"So, do you want to come? " Molly asked of Frank softly at the lunch table. Molly had a need for adventure now that she had no access to her video games. She had kept her grades up, and stayed out of trouble. Her aunt had said it was socialization issues that kept her apart from them, that Molly would zone out everything about her in the process of playing with them. Since the water came, and Willie had left, the shop had stood empty - well, the things were still there, and it had been dried out and made secure, but the door had been locked. There would need to be some repair work done, of course. Of her Father's shop, her aunt had managed the store while her father recovered in the hospital.

Today's adventure discussion was the weekend exploration of the coastline between Cabot Cove and Boothbay. Molly had asked for, with great surprise from her father and aunt, a pair of binoculars and a powerful flash light with extra batteries and bulbs that she had put in what she called her exploration bag. She also managed to get a small folding camping shovel, a space blanket, and cloths line that her father had watched her pack into her bag.

He hadn't said anything for a moment then said to her, "You may want to put knots in that every so often. It will shorten the line, but if you need something to help you not slip, the knots will help. I don't think that will hold your weight though, but it would be fine for a guide rope. And I will show you how to use a compass."

Her last thing she had placed in the bag was something of a surprise gift her father had wrapped special for her. It was a pair of walkie talkies that had a 15 mile range. One was to be kept with ether he, or Gretchen at all times, the other she was to wear, and if she needed anything, to use it.

"I know you want to explore, and that's wonderful. I will say okay, on one condition: that you let us know where you are, and who your with, and that if something happens, that you call us for help. "

The last time the group went out, they had misjudged the weather. What started as a warm day on the other side of Boothbay Harbor to get a close up look at the galleon ended up with a down pour of rain that would have soaked them to the bone if she hadn't pulled out her space blanket to cover them. Darkness had come too fast, and while Molly knew that her father was several miles away, she called him to relay to Mr. Fletcher where they were. By the time they had been "rescued" her aunt had arrived. There was no scolding, just hugs and a dry set of cloths for the children. Ian and Patty hadn't been worried. They had rather a lot of fun and it got them out from

underfoot of their aunt.

"Is it going to rain?" he asked, sipping his milk.

Molly wrinkled her nose. She was rather keen on paying attention to the weather now. "Its supposed to be nice for the whole weekend, then after Tuesday they said the temperature was going to drop." She leaned forward and lowered her voice "There was a guy who came into the store and wanted to sell me a treasure map. But dad said they aren't worth the paper that they were printed on. So, last week, when it was getting cold, Dad went down to our basement- the door to the cellar was tucked in the closet in the hallway, can you imagine? I went down to see what was down there… and I found this…" Molly snuck a look both ways before pulling a folder out of her book bag. Flipping back the cover of the folder she reviled a tattered brown thing that

smelled bad and looked worse. Franks eyes narrowed as she unfolded it. While the material was old, the spidery writing on it was still crisp. There were several pin holes and the material, as he saw, was translucent. Molly folded it up and closed the folder, replacing it in her back pack. "I found it in a cubby hole in our basement in an old rusty box that my dad let me have cause I found it when we were cleaning the basement out. It was filthy down there, an dad said he didn't think the past owners would mind. There was a bunch of stuff over it, some things dad said were pretty old - antiques. I used a bobby pin to get it open. And I found it." She saw Frank regard her. "What?"

"I think what you found is what they called a key. Unless you know where it goes to, you could be searching forever," Frank said gathering the remnants of his lunch onto his tray to dispose of them.

"That's what I thought, well, sort of, I didn't know it had a name… but… it also has some numbers on it, and I googled them on the library computer. It took me to an air and space website, and they are like- surveyors markings. Dad said they would have used a sextant and a compass to get their bearing back then… So, are you in?" she asked as they stood to return to class.

She watched Frank take in a breath. Of all the kids in the school, and it wasn't because his great aunt was famous, or that Ian and he were cousins, Frank made no judgments against her, and was honestly her friend as were Ian and his sister. She knew without asking what his answer would be.

"I'm in," he said at last, holding the door open for her.

"Ack George tha's the third one this month! I'm running out of places to buy these things," said Willie, surveying the burning wreckage of his latest car. "I'll nae be qualifying for insurance after this one."

George sighed. If it hadn't been for the remote lock opener that Willie had installed at his apartments, and had purchased with his cars, he would have perished two months ago. He had watched the tag on the bombing files get labeled as a non priority, and that the files in a days time disappear so that there wasn't any follow up records of the events. George had kept records though, and had followed up as he could. The local met would come with the fire brigade. "What? Haven't finished you off, have they?" the one officer had quipped. Willie had given him a sad look. "Pray for your families if they do," he'd said. It was just after that they had a break in the investigation. One of the lads who walked the night beat had caught up with Willie as he walked home from the grocery store.

"There's something odd going on sir, with what happened the other day, an my super isn't too keen on it. Some gent from a home office took your files sir, an said it wasn't any of our concerns any more, an not to trouble ourselves with caring. Well, that didn't sit well with my super, sir. It never does."

Willie regarded the young man He stood a good 6 foot tall, slight of build and had keen blue eyes with a shock of brown hair under his hat. "It isn't the first time, though, is it? There have been

others?" He watched the young man nod.

"You're the first to survive. Five others that I know didn't make it an they were all good men. There is something dirty going on, an it doesn't sit well with us." He added under his breath, "We want to help."

Sighing softly, Willie shook his head. "It's the dirtiest dirt tha' I ha' ever seen. The kind that makes your skin crawl. I can't put you in danger lad, or your super or your families."

The officer gave him a bemused glance "We already are if they are allowed to continue. My super knows of your friend, the older gent. Said he's a decent enough fellow." The officer paused. "It's the other decent folk that I'm not sure your safe with. All of those who rent flats about here have an overseer who manages their books. I think tha's how you have been getting your apartments in the way. No matter who you rent from, or the name you give them, they go by your

description and catch up. An it may be the same with the autos, most about here don't own cars or new ones. Unless there is a reason to prove a point with them? If there is? The super would be inclined to have things blow up in someone else's district."

Willie regarded the groceries that he was carrying. Pausing he turned to the officer and placed first one bag, and then the other in the officers arms while he dug out several apples and placed them in his pockets. "What's your name, son?" he asked gently.

"Winfred, sir"

Letting out a slow breath, Willie sized him up. "Winfred, thank you for the conversation that we have had tonight, it has been most illuminating. If you would be so kind as to deliver these to whom ever you know needs to feed their children tonight, an the next, I would be most obliged."

Winfred glanced down at the bag of groceries before asking "What do I tell your friend?" Not getting an answer he glanced back at where Willie had been standing. There was just empty space. Turning about Winfred tried to listen for the sound of foot falls. Nothing. Sizing up the grocery bag he went down the street, placed the groceries on the porch and knocked on one of the doors of a small flat. An elderly woman opened the door and peered into the night. She was about to close the door when she saw the bags of food. One hand went to cover her mouth, the other her heart. Winifred watched from the shadows as she called to those who lived in the house to help her bring it in. Pausing at the door leaned against the frame to wipe the tears from her eyes.

`Something needs to be done in this neighborhood to help those like her,' Winfred thought, running his hand through his hair. Most of the families there were living hand to mouth. The rents were high, and the jobs at the factories never paid enough to cover everything. `Maybe I've just been chosen to be the one to do that something.'

George stood across the street at Willie's apartment. He could see movement against the curtains, and was beginning to become a bit peeved. He was to have met Willie half an hour before down the street. When he didn't show George took a walk. Sighing, he went across the street and pushed the button to be rung into the apartment. Instead of hearing Willie's voice, a vast BOOM filled the air from above him.

"Damn." George muttered, kicking through the glass of the door to pull the fire call box.

Ian felt someone in the room before he closed the door to where he had to wait for the tests. Glancing over he saw the same man sitting bundled in blankets in a reclining chair with the same bottle of white stuff beside him as they had given Ian. He shrugged and indicated to the bottle. "They said it was Pina Colada flavored. I told them I wasn't old enough to drink and they could take it back… Didn't work."

Ian heard a chuckle from the man, followed by a raspy cough. "Not even close," he said finally, wheezing a bit. Sighing the man turned his head to regard Ian as he moved to another chair and curled up with a pile of blankets over him. "What are you in for?"

Ian tilted his head not understanding at first what he was being asked. When it dawned on him he shrugged. "Copper deficiency. They need to scan my bones to see if I'm growing or na… you?"

He watched as the man turned to face him, the hat and scarf being removed when he changed. Ian regarded the mans face with out changing expression. In polite terms, it looked as if an elephant had stepped on his face. The skin was an angry red from scars , parts of his mouth and his ear were completely removed. Ian could see that the extent of the damage was beyond what could be repaired in a life time. There was no pity in his eyes, just, curiosity.

"Liver failure," he said at last. He held out his hand. "My friends call me Tommy."

"Ian," he answered, taking the offered hand and giving it a shake. Instead of letting it go, Ian turned it palm upright and glanced at it. Bending over he gave the palm a sniff. "Tell them to check for gall stones as well," he said before releasing his hand. "My great grandma is a healer. She knows things tha' most doctirs won't learn in their life times. If you don't mind me asking, what happened?"

Taking a sip of the white liquid in the cup, Ian watched Tommy shrug. "I don't remember. I don't have any real memory of what my life was like until about two months ago when I woke up one morning and was watching the news. Anything before that is – gone. I can't drive, of course. I use a stick to help when I walk so I don't go too far off the road, or too much into it. I know, where I was at, if I stayed there, I would have never been able to find out what I need to know. So… do you have a girlfriend?" Tommy asked with a twinkle in his eye.

Ian took a quick sip of the liquid before he answered. "I have friends who are girls, an some I'd rather just thump them good than to deal with them. I'm surrounded by my sisters an aunts an if all to a girl there is is wailing an carrying on, then I don't rightly know if I want to be having them." He finished the cup and put it down next to the jug. "Ach that's horrid stuff. Taste like m' own boogers going down."

Ian watched the older man nearly choke as he was in mid sip. Clearing his throat after swallowing, Tommy shifted his gaze sideways. "Your mother's a lovely lady," he said over the brim of his cup.

He watched as Ian's small shoulders shrugged. "I guess so, as all mothers are lovely. Haven't seen her in over 5 months. After Da died, something in her broke an it was thought best that the girls and I come here to live with my aunts an uncles."

There was no fire that came with the blast - George was happy about that. The door to Willie's apartment was ripped off its hinges and he could see someone laying just inside the frame. Stepping into the room George looked around. Willie's healer bag was folded and placed on the chair by the bed. Striding across the room George grabbed the bag and returned to the person on the floor. A downward glance informed him the person at his feet was still alive- for then. He

knelt down as he pulled out his cell phone calling for an ambulance and assistance. The man had no face it, and his eyes being sheared away - and had used his hands to shield the blast that was at face level. Swallowing George realized that the height was the same, as was the build. George flipped open the bag and took a breath. Willie had shown him one evening what he carried in there – the bits of leaves and twigs, what would help, what would harm. He had them coded, wrapped in small color pouches. Pulling out one for pain, George crumpled the leaf on the tongue of the man. "Hang in there, help is on the way," he murmured, hearing the sirens come closer. George closed up the bag and slung it over his shoulder. He knew how precious it was to Willie, and his family, he would safeguard it for him.

It was with a jolt that he realized where the bomb had been placed. They had learned from their mistakes that a door being unlocked by remote would set off the bombs, this one had been wired into the answering bell – the moment that someone pushed the button to release

the door below. It didn't explain why Willie was late. If it wouldn't have happened that night, it would have happened the next- or even when they knew he was in the building and they pressed the button below to have him come over and ring through someone.

The shirt was of the same style Willie had taken to wearing, as were the pants and shoes. There was no wallet- though it could be anywhere in the room. George lifted the mans hands off the floor and placed each of them on the mans chest. Identification of him would be difficult, if not impossible, though George knew he had access to the DNA reports from the summer. Half-rising, George pulled a blanket off the bed and placed it over the man as voices entered the lower area of the building. George stood up and looked around again. He knew in a few seconds the place would be over run and he would lose his chance at finding out what happened.

It was with a start he realized that the plate was off the button call box and that there was a small round key ring screw driver plate beside the screw that held the plate in place. He couldn't dust for fingerprints now. Opening his jacket he extracted a small plastic bag and was careful to slide both the plate and the screw driver into it, then put it in his pocket. He hadn't seen gloves anywhere- there had to be fingerprints. Willie's coat wasn't on the coat rack ether.

When the medics came up the steps George was kneeling beside the man taking his pulse. Giving them a backward glance he said, "I've given him a small dose of poppy leaf for the pain; it's helped somewhat - his breathing has eased."

Looking down he addressed the man on the floor. "Hang in there, William. Help is here." George moved to let the medics have room. He needed to get out of there before the offices came. He saw his chance two flights down with a little old lady who was clinging to the rail not knowing if to go up or down. He went down the steps to her and was comforting her, telling her there was no fire, and that the paramedics were with the young man helping him as the police officers went by he didn't pay any attention to them, just to the little old lady who was speaking to him about her son in the war. Helping her into her apartment George waited half a breath before going down. There was one last thing he needed to do- he hated to do it, because it would have been seen as tampering with evidence. He knew he had been very careful before in regards to his fingerprints, as had Willie in their comings and goings. Slipping on his gloves as he reached the lower floor he stepped through the glass door and if to balance himself reached out and wiped his fingerprint from the button on Willie's number.

The fire brigade was just pulling into the slot when he reached the nearest curb to turn away from the apartment building. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he ducked into an alley. The bag would make him noticeable. Setting the bag down briefly he removed his jacket, then slipped the bag over his shoulder and replaced his jacket. It made him look ten pounds heavier, so much the better for mingling in the crowds. He realized with a jolt that he'd probably condemned the man by calling him Willie. Whomever was responsible would be sure to finish the job not knowing it was their own man. He would have to get word to Taylor. George felt his knees go weak. He leaned against the wall then slid down it to sit on the cold pavement of the alley. It could have been Willie. If the plate would have been on it most certainly would have killed whom ever was answering the bell. There was a bitter irony to that.

The crunch of gravel in front of George caused him to look upward, and see an offered hand. It was a young police officer who regarded him curiously. Taking the officer's hand George used it to steady himself. The young officer shook his head and said softly, "I heard the call come over the radio, He was with me ten blocks away na a minute before the call came in. Name's Winfred, sir, an' he's gone to live in the darker places I'm thinking, to keep the neighborhood safe from the likes of those doing this. There are enough who sleep on the street to fade in with another I reckon. Near the bridge over to the shops is where I last saw him. An' I'm forgetting it as I'm

telling you, sir."

George nodded watching the young officer stride from the alley as if he had been checking a stray cat. Going down the opposite direction George used a second alley to come out on the main

street and started his walk towards the bridge.

The air was calm as he sat on the bench over looking the river. It may be with some luck that he could run the prints, though after what happened with the gun records he had with reasonable certainty the firm belief any computer records that he would unearth would be erased at the source. He had installed a router system, that could pull up the information, then disconnect from the web anything that wasn't within the parameters of the information. If the original file was just 5 mb, then that's all that it would allow for the download. Twice it had stopped and informed him the file size had tripled in a heart beat. He kept swapping hard drives, and changing the location

that he pulled up the information at. He knew he had only an hour at best to locate the fingerprints online, and the evening brought the closing of the locations where public access was.

A glint came into his eyes as he rose from the bench. Striding down the street he took a moment to study the entrances of different buildings. A smile crossed his lips.

Winfred walked his beat feeling his heart hammer in his chest. "Da said you didn't have to be brave to be an officer, just willing to die in the line of duty." The shrill alarm of a shop not far ahead of him caused his pace to quicken. Arriving at the shop he saw on the call plate tape over several dusted fingerprints, and a key ring screw driver that had tape over two dusted fingerprints. He heard a voice behind him say softly, "Looks like he dropped his key ring when

he tried to gain access to the shop. He leaned against the plate as he tried to force his way in… Please be careful."

George slipped into the darkness and went back to Willies apartment. The paramedics had gone. The fire department was still cleaning up the debris from the street as he slipped into the building and went up the steps two at a time. He didn't have to show his badge as he walked into the room, and pausing in the shattered door frame he brushed against the telephone stand causing a small clunk as he passed by. "What happened here?" he asked, letting out some air.

Frank fidgeted. Ian was supposed to be back right after lunch, and they were already two hours away from leaving for the day. They were in the library study period. Frank had convinced Molly to let him scan the item she had onto a disk and then using the web access pulled up the information from NOAH regarding the longitude and latitude markings on the map. He downloaded as many of the local shoreline maps that he could, then on a hunch, did a search on old maps of the area in the archives and saved them to his disk as well. Taking great care he deleted all of the history, and the cookies, and everything that would trace where he had been. He could use his home computer to review the files that night. Using the file system of the computer

he looked up the books that might be relevant to what they were searching for. It was on his way back to his seat that he paused and looked at the map that hung on the wall of the library for the school.

Blinking twice he noticed several things at the same time. While it was an old map, it wasn't an original - it was a copy of the original that had been painstakingly scanned and then printed out on the library wide printer. The map was also for sale, the copies of it going to support the library fund. What made this particular map interesting was the evidence of several pin holes that had also been copied as well in the transfer process.

`It couldn't be that easy… or could it?' he thought. There was one copy left of the map in the holder. He knew they only had half a dozen at a time and the cost of it was 25$. Fumbling in pocket he extracted his wallet and pulled out one of the credit cards his parents had given him at the beginning of the summer. Except for the roses he had purchased for the school nurse, he really hadn't spent any of the money on the card. His hand covered the map and pulled it out of the holder. Taking a breath he swallowed. "I'd like to buy this map, Ma'am," he said sliding the card across the counter. She glanced at him and the card, then nodded. Screwing up his courage he inquired, "Where is the original to this one?"

The librarian looked back at the map then to him and smiled. "It's on loan to the Smithsonian right now. We don't have the facilities to preserve it properly. They were able to provide us with a grant to have the map faithfully reproduced for display and sale. It was the first map made of the coastline that was accurate, and every sailor worth their salt had a copy of it. It was mass produced in the late 1700s by the East Indies Trading Company and given to their privateers."

"I've heard that name before…" he mused. He saw her nod.

"They were the trading company whom had their vessels raided during the Boston Tea Party."

Behind Frank the bell rang. He nodded his thanks before hurrying to his locker to place his things in them . The age of the map would be probably right. He would have to look over his copy and the copy that she gave him to be sure. He knew it had to be common practice to pin the maps together. The odds of being able to line the pin holes up would be astronomical. At the very least he had a very cool map of the area. He was halfway to class before he stopped cold.

She had said Privateers. There was something about that word that puzzled him. He knew his father or mother would know the answer. Entering into the classroom he breathed a sigh of relief. Ian was sitting in the chair writing down the days assignments while Taylor spoke softly to the teacher. Leaning over he whispered to Ian, "Howdid it go?" He watched as Ian rolled his eyes.

"Ach, I'm so full of the boogers they gave me to drink I don't know if I will ever eat again. That, an' the noise the great beastie made over me were the worst part," he said under his breath, shrugging.

"Look, are you able to use Aunt Taylor's computer tonight and meet me in the chat room about seven? Molly has an idea for this weekend that we need to talk about."

"If I'm able to get the home work done, aye, I can be there. Bed time for me is going to be early tonight though. I've been through a washer's spin cycle an m' belly's na feeling to particularly happy."

Frank cracked his knuckles as he sat down to the desk that held his computer. His dad had said no more than twenty minutes. It was just a guess when Ian or Molly would be on and chance if they could all be on together. He used two minutes of that time to Google the term 'privateer,' and sat back when he saw what it had said.

A privateer was a private ship (or its captain) authorized by a country's government by letters of marque to attack foreign shipping. Strictly, a privateer was only entitled to attack enemy vessels

during wartime. However, states often encouraged attacks on opposing powers while at peace, or on neutral vessels during time of war, blurring the line between privateering and piracy.

Privateers were an accepted part of naval warfare from the 16th to the 19th centuries, authorized by all significant naval powers. The costs of commissioning privateers was borne by investors hoping to gain a significant return from prize money earned from enemy merchants Reading on, Frank realized the significance of the galleon that had been beached in the other harbor. Newer ships would often lose their calking when they were on longer trips it was up to the crews to replace the calking as fast as it was being lost. Storms and illness would also beach the vessels, or when the ship was taken as pirate's loot and left unseaworthy

"What would Aunt Jessica do?" he thought. "First, find out the age of the house that it was found in, and the person who had owned the house- that would be in the deed section of the court house – the hall of records." Before he got further he was interrupted by a PING on his computer as a pop up box appeared in the corner of his screen. He had subscribed to a news service. His eyebrows went up as he made a quick copy and paste of the article before sending it to the printing station.

The headline screamed at him, "What Is Scottland Yard Playing At? Bristol, UK: A rash of bombings in the south side have mystified local police. Five men have died in the last three month and with all five, Scotland Yard officials have confiscated the files and informed the

local police that it wasn't any more of their concern. The victims families are notably upset. Following in this wake, a confrontation between officers and Scotland Yard officials occur when one of the beat police refused to hand over evidence from an attempted break in at a local senior home. An unidentified man was discovered at the most recent bombing sites, the apartment rented by noted Dr. W. Razanur, author and immunologist. Dr. Razanur had traveled to the UK

to attend a series of seminars as guest speaker. No information of his current location is known however police have dismissed any involvement with the latest explosion…"

"Ho, boy," breathed Frank. He returned to his computer screen and pulled the larger map up, he had been careful to mark the pin holes with a bright color, it was easier to see with the second map overlay. It wasn't a square pinning. He was thankful for that, but there were more than four pin holes in the larger map, no matter how he turned the smaller map though, nothing lined up. Discouraged, he was about to pull the cd out when his elbow bumped his books sending some

of his papers to the floor. Bending over he picked up a few, then saw the smaller photo copy of the map had slid under his bed. Getting down on both knees he bent over and discovered that the map had fallen face down. The pin hole dots had bled through the back of the paper. As he glanced at it, something came to him. Picking up the paper he sat down and manipulated the image to invert it.

Frank gasped. The map fit over the section of shoreline between Boothbay and Cabot Cove.

A haunting image flashed before him of the willow tree, and the shadowy figure that had watched the bus turn the corner. "If you wanted to mark a spot, you would do it with something out of the ordinary so you could find it later…" he thought.

A soft bird call let him know Ian was on line.

"I saw it," Ian had typed. "Aunt Emma says to tell you Hello to you and yours."

Frank breathed a sigh of relief - Willie had got word to Aunt Emma, if there was any questions about his safety he would call the theater that she owned and asked when the next performance was. If it was someone he knew, he would ask what the children's rates were. The theater got hundreds of calls a day. Aunt Emma then would write her favorite nephews and say hello in a general email to them.

"I figured it out," Frank blurted in his text, "I know where the spot is to start at, but I think we need to take an adult with us this time," he finished.

"Ahhh. Any reason to spend with the lady you love…" teased Ian.

Frank felt his cheeks grow hot. His affections for Tipper were known to his family, it wasn't something that he wanted to get around though. Adopting her as a family member made it easier to be able to give her open hugs, and sometimes, a peck on her cheek when she was leaving. He reasoned that he still kissed his mum and dad hello and good-bye, and he made a promise to himself he would never out grow that, and he would make sure his little sister would as well. He had seen how much it meant to Aunt Jessica to do that simple thing.

"Maybe. So?" he answered Ian.

He knew the sounds Ian was making on the other end as he typed, "Kissy Kissy!"

"Snot Gob!" Frank typed back grinning. Molly often called Ian that. A perverse thought crossed Frank's mind- something his dad had discussed with him about how boys and girls would often tease each other, to the point of being cruel just to get the others attention. When she said it though, she now wore a grin on her face, and she would nudge his shoulder. While she liked Patty's company a lot, Patty being her best friend, Ian, came a close second as she

would sometimes be called to account for why she glanced at him so often in class by the teacher. `Na-` he thought to himself, 'That would be too weird.'

Ian became more serious. "Do you really think its necessary? If it's a wicked thing to do, Aunt Taylor won't let any of us go."

"It's near the shore line. The other thing is, that, the person who made this map may not have been the nicest of persons to deal with. I'd rather someone who would be able to have a bit more muscle behind them than just us too if we came across anyone out there."

"You don't think Molly can't be trouble enough out there if someone bothers us?" Frank could tell Ian was giggling on the other side of the computer.

Molly chose to log on at that moment "I read that!" she typed fiercely.

Sighing, Frank pounded out "Guys! Stop! Molly, I found where your key goes, and I know the place, and we need to have an adult with us because, it may be more than we should get into alone, okay?"

There was a pause. It was her expedition, her map key. "Ahhhh Kissy Kissy!" she finally typed.

"Five more minutes, Frank!" his dad called up the steps.

"Okay, dad!" Frank answered as he brought up an instant message window for Tipper. If Molly was teasing him about Tipper, it was a given that it was okay with her if Tipper was part of this. He knew she checked her messages at least once a day, though it would be tomorrow before he would know for sure.

"Angela, if your not doing anything on this sat, and the weather is going to be good, would you be able to join us on one of Molly's expeditions? Oh, and Aunt Emma says to tell you Hello."

There was a flicker on the message board where her name was. Frank regarded it for a moment then, on a hunch, opened up his spy ware blocker. Giving it a tap, it began to whirl and then began flashing red. He paused a moment, then typed, "I had a dream last night, about, primroses. I was in a field of them looking at the sky and they made me dizzy, like I was two people. I looked it up, but I can't find anything that would say what it means. Do you know?" He saw the flicker happen again. He was very glad that all the work he did he had saved onto disk, and had cleaned up. A pop up box appeared on his screen with IP numbers attached to it. There were

programs that he knew that could read every keystroke. What the person on the other end didn't expect was that the same program could be used to trace it back to the point of origin, written by a kid and passed about to other kids under the guise of a game called Ghost Lighter. While the original intention was a scavenger hunt for those who were pinging the system, Ghost Lighter became a popular way to know who was on line and listening in chat rooms when they would sign in as just a space and a dot for the name. ` We have to change our pattern again,` thought Frank, sighing. For a second he closed his eyes. He was just a kid, they all were. They found themselves in places no kid ever should be, and now, this. After seeing what Fordham was capable of doing, after all of this, Frank knew he would never be a normal kid again. He had heard his parents quiet discussion about how he had changed since being beaten up. He really

hadn't changed - well, maybe a little. He was slower because he was trying to stop from being afraid of every noise, every movement of the leaves. Frank knew that the kid responsible was no longer able to hurt him, he knew the kid had friends, and he knew that someday, some how they would try and get back at him for that kid being tossed in a cell.

Opening his eyes he regarded the IP address. He knew that there was nothing he could do to find out who it was. He was just a kid. Frowning, his finger twitched toward the Email box. Carefully he copied the information then opened up a message then clicked the address bar. He always carbon copied things to himself. His fingers flew over the keys as he typed out a brief message then pasted the IP information into it. He hit print, then send at the same time that he opened an on line game of tumble blocks. He knew it was very unlikely that whom ever was on the other end would be able to sort between the signal that he just sent, or the request to open up the graphics of the game. Weird how the older machines would show that's what he was doing, opening up a game, and then ignore the message being sent.

"Have to go guys, its my bedtime!" he said, then drawing in a breath he unplugged the modem. Ian had informed him what happened to some computers - it had taken two summers for him to get enough money to purchase the lap top, along with his birthday and Christmas money.

Rather than turning it off, he closed it and put it on his desk. He didn't know what Sheriff Metzger would do about it.

Mort had kicked off his boots and leaned back in his chair as he sorted through the mail on his desk. His computer was humming in the background as it played soft classical melodies that were interrupted by the "TA DA" sound. Sighing, he glanced up at who could be sending him a message at this hour.

A normal kid emailing him in regards to internet concerns would have resulted in a simple return email back stating the rules of internet safety and stranger danger. This was different though. This was Frank Fletcher, and while all of the details of the dangers he had been in were known to Willie and Tipper he knew enough that Frank didn't panic unless there was real danger, or a threat.

Frowning Mort regarded the IP address. Something about it was familiar. Blinking he unplugged his modem before digging through his in basket and inspecting a source code in the text of the email he had received a few months ago.

"Damn," he sighed, turning off his monitor after saving the information to a disk. His hand lingered over the phone. He had a feeling that no matter who he called, there would be some one listening. Slipping his boots back on he smoothly rose from his chair crossing the room to where Adele was reading _Field and Stream._ Bending over he kissed her mouth softly. " I have to go."

She caught his hand. "And you can't tell me?" she said in a matter of fact tone.

He shook his head as his hand caressed her cheek "No, I can't." His other hand moved to her other cheek as he bent over her face again kissing her a last time. "I've loved you from the moment that I first saw you," Mort murmured. He drew in a breath, and walked quickly from the room.

There were a few ways that he could approach this. None of them were good for Willie if too much information was brought out. Or for him, for that matter. He knew that anyone high enough up the food chain to make a difference in what was going on could make all the responsible parties disappear in a heart beat. Mentally he sorted through the people that he knew, people that he could go to their house at 9 pm and get an answer that he needed. People that he could trust not to make a call and have him… gone. By the time he made it across the driveway to his car, he knew who to go to.

Jan Patterson had been a classmate of Mort's since high school. They followed the same path into law enforcement, though she had gone on to study law, and in time was elected to be a judge. She worked hard for her district, and won other elections that placed her in an enviable position of having access, and the power to reform some of the laws of New York. Jan had stood on her own two feet during all of this, and while she was outspoken on some issues, had earned the respect of the House and Senate when she was chosen as a key note speaker to a grass roots

bill that protected the rights of children. She never married, never wanted to.

The only thing that had caused a bit of a stir was when one of the other candidates gained access to her bank records by having one of his staff members be hired at her bank and then when she came in to make a deposit, printed out her banking history. It found monthly payments to a certain facility and when it hit the papers she said nothing. Mort had known, though. She had been a year on the beat when she had come across a throw away, a child who's parents had used `tough love" to deal with their child. It was Christmas Eve, bitter cold and the child , a young girl was just eleven. She was standing on the upper rail of a bridge ready to jump and she had just her night shirt on, no robe, no shoes. Jan had found her, climbed up to where she was and convinced her it was okay, and got her down and into her cruiser. There were no real prominence of shelters at that time to take in children. The adult shelters would have been too much of a danger for the child. There was one place, on the east side, and Jan took the child there to discover that they lacked bedding and food, and cloths for event the children they had. A sea of children's faces that held despair haunted her, and Jan made the decision to help them with private donations that she never wanted credit for.

Mort sighed. He had stood by her, and it had almost cost her everything until a court search of the records showed she didn't have a child there. Her actions helped the shelter stay open, and be able to expand. She'd shrugged off the amount she had spent. She was single, she owned her own home, her bills were few. She had no vices that he knew of. In all of the years that he had known her though- even with her advancement in the political world, she never changed. She still lived in the same home that she had inherited from her parents. While she had staff now, she still did her own dishes, and laundry. The staff was there as a buffer.

The driveway was full when he pulled in. He sighed. Now out in the open, she did do fund raising for different charities. He could see the men in black tuxes and snappy bow ties moving about the grounds with their dates. The gentleman at the door was about to refuse Mort entrance into the house when Jan saw him and nodded. He moved with her quickly to her library where he removed his hat and stood looking at her.

"Jan, I need your help," he said at last.

"That sounds rather ominous Mort…" she answered, tilting her head to one side. She watched him nod.

"It is. It's more than I can handle, and the risk to everyone involved is deadly. I wouldn't ask you to take this risk if it wasn't to help some children that I know."

He watched her slid back onto the sofa and cross her legs. Her eyebrow raised delicately. "I'm listening."

"I received an email from one of them an hour ago, He had discovered that his computer had spy ware that was following his keystroke, and as smart as kids are, he was able to trace back to who the other person was… He sent it to me, and I recognized the international codes. Jan, someone in Scotland Yard is spying on an eleven year old boy and his cousin who is ten. From what he told me, all his cousin said was that one of their aunts said 'hello.'"

Mort saw Jan puzzle over what he had said. Taking a breath she leaned forward and said, "Wouldn't this be a matter for the FCC? Or the FBI if you feel that this is a pedophile case?" She watched Mort nod before pacing.

"It would, normally, except his cousin's uncle has been working to uncover some nasty dealings in Scotland Yard, the type that people who have tried to help have ended up dead. I don't want to be losing these children because of some idiot - they have been through enough already. " Mort took a slow breath and closed his eyes. "I met Ian a few months ago, when I picked his great aunt and him up at the airport. He was ill, so ill that even at ten, he was a feather weight angel in my arms. He had been brought over for treatment and even now, even with a proper diagnosis, we don't know how long he will be with us. His cousin Frank was sent to Cabot Cove to stay with his great aunt over the summer, and he's a good kid. A month and a half ago, we almost lost him from a beating he received from an upper classman. He's not healed yet, not inside at least, if you know what I mean. He saved his great aunt's life, and he also saved the district attorney of Orange County's life as well. And he helped to solve the murder of a young girl not too long ago. I can't stop the person who wants to harm them. I don't know what to do. I do know that if nothing is done, the world won't be a place we want to live in."

"What makes you think I can take on Scotland Yard?" she sighed.

Mort shrugged. "I can't think of anyone else that would have the contacts to find out what's going on."

Mort saw her back stiffen as she waved her hand towards the door to where her guests were. "I'm

better raising money for orphanages, and free care funds than I am digging through technobabble. You're asking for more than just a favor, Mortimer - you're asking for me to jeopardize everything I've worked so hard to accomplish."

Mort sighed and slid his hat onto his head. Wordlessly he turned to regard her before saying, "The Jan Patterson that I knew wouldn't hesitate to put her life on the line to protect a child, Money was never your motivation for helping before. You;re beginning to sound like the big shots we despised in the academy for washing their hands of the dirty street work that needed to be done. You're raising money for the shelters, Jan, but, its been a hell of a long time since you

looked the people who live there, and those who need your real help in the face." Nodding to her, he strode from the room leaving her to sit in silence to ponder his words.

Frank sat for a moment looking at his closed lap top for the longest time before hearing his father's footfalls coming up the steps. He knew his dad would stop in to tell him good night. Telling him about the planned adventure with Molly could wait. "Dad?" he called out as Grady passed by his door. Grady heard his son call and pushed open the door. In his arms was Ruth who was chewing on her fist, her eyes half closed.

"Yes, Frank?" Grady watched the emotions cross his son's face as he struggled for words.

"I got a text message from Ian, and he said "Aunt Emma says hello" and just after he sent it, my spy ware went off, and I ran Ghost Lighter, a program to see who is trying to get into the computer. I know where I go pretty well dad, and, well, it just seemed coincidental that it happened just then, so I copied the information and sent it to Sheriff Metzger, and then unplugged my modem. I haven't heard back from him, and I didn't turn off the computer ether. There is something else, too… I didn't want to worry Mom with this, but…" Frank reached over and handed the print out of the story on Scotland Yard to Grady. "Normal kids wouldn't be paranoid Dad, or know what it even means. I… I just want to be a normal kid, Dad, not one that worries that some stranger is going to blow up our house or come after me, but, I think they already are and I don't know what to do."

"We go on, Frank, with our lives as normal every day people. We do the normal things, we go to work, and school and to where ever we were going before and just do it. If they know that we know they are aware of what they are doing, it may prompt them into doing something – hasty."

Franks eyebrows went up. "But I sent the note to Sheriff Metzger!"

He watched as his father nodded. "Is that going to cause them to be hasty?" he asked with some alarm. "It might, or it might not. I'm guessing you took steps to cover your tracks with it?" A short nod from Frank made Grady let out the breath that he was holding.

"Yes," he said simply.

"Then the rest is up to Mort, isn't it?" asked Grady softly. He watched his son nod again before Frank went to him and gave Grady a long hug.

"I love you, Dad," he said against Grady's chest.

The gravel crunched under his feet as he came to his car and stopped to lean against the door. Closing his eyes he willed back hot tears that were forcing their way out. He knew he was hard on her. She had changed, though. Her father was a distinguished member of the

judicial board. The fact that his wife was 40 years younger than him and had some what of a past had been glossed over. Her dancing studies had been highlighted, and that she had once danced in the theater on stage as the prima donnas. Not the seedy bars that she had been taken into custody from. She had been booked, and charged under her stage name. The marriage happened shortly after her release under her real name, and Judge Patterson became a father shortly before their first wedding anniversary. Judge Patterson became known as the Iffy Judge… if Iffy was for something that would be of benefit then the ruling was fair. But if Iffy didn't think it would help matters, there would be no mercy.

Something changed by the fifth year of marriage. Her parents had spilt custody of her, allowing her to spend the school year with her mother and the summers with her father at the estate. She had told everyone at school that her father's work kept him up here- but Mort knew the truth. Everything was kept quite, even after her father's passing a year before her graduation from the academy. The word Divorce was never spoken in Marblehead Mass. There were no drunks, and there were no domestics. The very idea that a husband could almost beat his wife to death over a ring of water left on the counter was alien to most- and explained as a tumble down the steps. Something that Jan's mother did a lot until she went to live closer to a better school for their daughter. Mrs. Patterson couldn't stop her husband from seeing their daughter over the summer. It was with relief that he never harmed Jan, and only years later did Jan learn the truth.

Twenty-two years later Mort found himself in class looking down at the mug shot of someone who looked like the elegant Mrs. Patterson whom he met one summer's evening years ago. They were to review the case and see if the ruling was fair. He saw Jan shift in her seat when he was giving the oral report. She'd regarded him after class as he gathered his books and turned in the folder. As far as he knew, he was the only one at the academy who had ever met her mother. His

professor had called him aside briefly and asked him a few questions regarding his report. Mort answered them honestly and kept his gaze from straying anywhere other than the Professor's direction. He'd breathed a sigh of relief when the professor walked out the door. Being the only one in the classroom, Mort took a moment to rest his hand on the folder beneath it. The look Jan had given him when he saw her next caused him to sigh again. The words from the academy

entrance papers floated between them.

"Has any blood relative a conviction of a felony?" While a yes wouldn't prevent someone from being accepted, it would prevent how far they could go after graduation. Mort had shown skills at identifying perps even after they had aged, or tried to disguise themselves. He knew perfectly well at that moment the professor was testing him to see if he could make the connection between Jan's mother, and her. Jan had taken to darkening her hair somewhat, and wearing contacts. She didn't look anything like her father- and in some ways resembled her mother. The professor retired that year, several years early, and the class changed to use hypothetical cases,

not real ones. A year after, Mort's brother was arrested several times on petty crimes. Mort had been honest with them on his entrance exam. It was after that, that Jan became a crusader for children.

He'd protected her. He had risked everything he had worked for. He had kept her secret by removing her mother's file from the box and seeing that it was destroyed properly, without any trace of it ever existing. She hadn't asked it of him, and he never told her he did it. He just couldn't see the sense of her facing that at her final review. Over the years they had asked favors of each other, neither keeping a tab. He'd even saved her life a few times, and she covered him during a shoot out when they were bringing down a drug lord. If the information came out now, it either wouldn't be believed, or, it wouldn't matter, albeit he would have been reprimanded for tampering with the files. It was different though, what the Yard was doing with the reports on Willie and the others. Nothing except mud would ever be found if the record had survived. Jan had waited long enough so that anyone connected with her mother's past wasn't about to say anything before she began her crusade. "I want to be like my father," she had said that year.

Mort pulled the door to his car open and slid inside. He had a long drive to do before he hit his

bed. "Guess you are *just* like him Jan…" he said to himself.

Frank wiggled on the floor next to Ian trying to ignore the kissing sounds that were coming from Ian. It was almost impossible to focus on what the principal was saying, anything more than three minutes and most of the students were sound asleep. There was something wrong, though. He knew from reading the permission slip that this assembly was supposed to be on the choices that the students would be making for their future, what classes they would be signing up for, and that they would be speaking with their mentors that would be assigned to them for counseling. He had been through them before at his other school and there was no signs of the tables that they would be using. Instead there was a tall older woman who was dressed in what his mom once called a power suit- something that would focus on who she was, not just a pretty face. They were a row back from the front, the littlest of the kids were off to the side. Frank glanced about. Whom ever this person was, she had to be important. There were men on ether side of the stage area in behind the curtains.

There was a polite spatter of applause from the teachers as the woman stepped up to the mike. Frank saw her eyes sweep the crowd of children and her smile was warm, yet sad.

"Hello, everyone, my name is Janice Patterson, and I'm here today because I was reminded of something not too long ago of something that I've forgotten. A long time ago, I went through the police academy, and I found my deepest wish was to help children. While that was a long time ago, and times have changed, I have now found myself in the position to help children in a whole new way, but I realized that what adults want, and what we think is best for the children, may not be within the best interest of the children. Can any one here tell me why that may be important?"

There was a pause before Molly put her hand up in the air, and answering the permission nod from Jan stood up. "Like when a divorce keeps the child away from a parent and family who love them but the courts don't listen?" Molly watched Jan's body language stiffen slightly before she nodded.

"Yes," she answered "any others?" she asked. One of the other grades had a student stand and ask in a higher voice. "Like when they decided that a squirt of ketchup on the hamburger was the same as a serving a veggies?" Frank watched her nod again, and call on another child as he slid his hand into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. Since they moved to Boothbay, his parents had granted him a new phone that had limited service, and while he wasn't inclined to call any of his friends back home, it had its uses. Carefully he moved his hands down behind the back of the

kid who was sitting in front of him and keyed in a text message. "Who is Janice Patterson and why is she at our assembly with security guards?" He carefully turned off the ringer after he hit the send button and slid it into his pocket. He didn't expect any answer from Tipper. If something was wrong though, she would know who to contact. It was a struggle to force himself to listen over the noise that the students were making in the questions and the applause and the laughter from what she was saying. He wondered how anyone could talk about almost absolutely nothing for so long and not repeat themselves. Frank closed his eyes for a moment trying to sort through

everything. She had been on the stage almost an hour and he hadn't heard anything from Tipper. Maybe this wasn't a local person after all. When he opened them he gasped to himself. Something had changed

There was someone on the stage with her, someone Frank knew. There was something else though, the men were missing. Well, not all of them, just one and he wasn't one that he recognized. Frank pushed Ian down as he saw movement from the corner of his eyes. Springing to his feet he shouted "GET DOWN!" Jan dropped to the floor of the stage as a hiss went whizzing by her. Frank stood calmly as he faced a gun with a silencer pointed at him. "The police are on their way, and there is only one road out of here. You don't have enough bullets to kill everyone here, and I don't care if you kill me or not. You wouldn't be the first to try and I'm getting tired of being a target, so just do it."

There wasn't an answer from the man in the dark glasses. He stood silent for a moment before his stance wavered and his knees buckled and he pitched forward his gun fell to the floor with a clatter. Tipper stepped over him and handed her rifle back to Mort before jumping down off the stage and running to Frank to gather him up in her arms.

"Ohhhhhh Kisssy Kisssy!" chorused Ian and Molly together. Frank reached back and batted Ian in the head. Mort crossed over to Jan and scooped her up in his arms, holding her as Jan shivered.

"I saw Gabe by her," Frank said muffled in her arms, "and all the people that were around her wearing black were gone and then the guy wearing gray was there and I saw something in his hand…" Frank drew in a breath. "And Molly has an expedition planned for this weekend. I think an adult should be there, its not a date or anything like that, but would you come?"

Frank managed to look up at Tipper, who had tears coming down her cheeks. "Yeah, okay, I'm free," she said ,wiping the tears away. "And I don't care how tired you get of it, Frank Fletcher, don't ever tell someone to do it to get it over with, understood?" Frank nodded and was pulled again into her arms. He wasn't scared or upset over any of it, or what happened after. Tipper's dart had knocked the man out, the men who were hired to protect Jan were found dragged off with lumps on their heads. The gun mans motives wouldn't be known for a while, if ever. Frank watched how tenderly Mort helped Jan to her feet and held her as she steadied herself. He even caught the quick kiss that she left on his cheek as he guided her to the chair before the principal dismissed the assembly to their school busses.

Tipper had been with Mort having brunch when she got the text message. At the same time Mort noticed the TV at the pub was running a story on Jan Patterson how she had canceled her plans for the day and her car had left the planned route to take her to the airport for her trip to DC amidst reports that her life had been threatened. Something made the two of them rise as one and Tipper pause at her car long enough to get her rifle before getting into Mort's cruiser.

Pacing in the principal's office Mort couldn't help but feel that his visit the night before to Jan had precipitated the attempt on her life. Carol Murphy had made strong coffee for them all as Tipper sat with Frank, Ian, Molly and the girls. Ian reached out and took a casual sip from Tipper's cup, then handed it to Frank who looked down into the creamy hot liquid and took a gulp himself before handing it back to Tipper.

"The kids are taking it better than I am," Jan thought as she watched the girls sit back to back of the boys talking about the weekend's activities in soft voices as they waited for word from Andy that the children on the buses that went out were home safe.

Jan had identified the gunman as her driver, someone she had known for years. He was still out cold, and there wasn't any reason why he had turned on her in such a way. The other men would be in the hospital for a while.

"So, what now Mort?" Jan asked as she smoothed the wrinkles in her skirt. "Where do I go from here? Clearly the staff has been compromised, and I don't have clue as to whom I can trust or turn to in the real world."

It was Molly who surprised everyone by piping up. "You can come home with me. We have an extra room and its about time that my dad started to date again." She watched as Jan shook her head. "I have no idea about how secure the location is, or anything about you…"

A giggling from Ian caused all of them to look. "A fine sort to be picking out a woman for your da, she's na ever scrubbed a dish in her life an ye da ha your aunt to help him manage ye, ye canna ha two single women under the same roof with out the cats fighting in the bag, ye'd na get any rest over at Frank's house with Ruthie keeping ye up at all hours and Dr. Tipper's got a bit of the odd in her refrigerators, ye' safer with a lot of people about who won't have problems stretching the pot another mouthful."

Jan shot a look at Mort then back to the children. "Oh, I wouldn't want to impose on anyone…" she said. shaking her head sending her curly hair in a fair few directions.

Between Andy and Mort's cars they were able to transport the children and Tipper home. Standing on the deck looking over the remains of the garden Jan watched the sun set and pulled her shawl about her shoulders. The school had been locked down, classes would begin on Monday. Ian had stated gallantly that she could have his bed, he would sleep on the sofa, but as Frank was staying over too, the two young boys had planned to make a tent in the living room and stay up telling ghost stories.

She didn't quite know what to expect, at least not the size of the house and the warm greeting that Taylor gave her. Jan looked around the house. There were wedding photos on the wall, as well as refrigerator art from Margarita. The kids were orderly as they placed their book bags in their cubes and dug out their books to do their homework. Taylor moved about with quite grace, listening to the boys discuss their lessons. Mort stopped by after dinner to speak quietly with Taylor and after a brisk nod to Jan he started for the door. Jan followed him, catching Mort by the sleeve.

"Mort, can you honestly tell me that what you asked last night has nothing to do with today's

events?"

She watched as Mort turned and regarded her. "I don't know. I do know that next time, it may be these kids in the line of fire, and we were incredibly lucky that Frank, and yes, it's the same Frank and Ian that I spoke to you about that are in the other room right now, if he hadn't have texted me, or warned you, we wouldn't be having this conversation. Not for me to say that you owe him something."

Jan swallowed a few times. "I'm involved already, aren't I? From the moment you came to me last night."

She watched Mort shrug. "We all are, Jan. If this monster isn't stopped, and they will go after

children to silence them, what chance does the world have for freedom?"

Letting out air she asked, "What proof do you have that it's the Yard?"

She watched as Mort pulled a scrap of paper from his breast pocket and opened it. On it was scrawled numbers. "I know you had to have looked at all the IP addresses from the Yard last night, just from curiosity."

He watched as she reached out and touched it with her finger tips. Her eyes were troubled as they glanced up at Mort. "I know that address," she said at last "I've only seen it with one email that was sent to me, and I kept it in a separate folder. Mort- The person who sent this, wouldn't be involved in stalking children."

"Why would you say that?" he inquired. He watched as she pressed her lips together, her face filled with concern. "Because of who he is- he would have had to undergone strict psychoanalysis to get where he is today, and something like that just doesn't slip through the

cracks."

"It has before, and you know what I'm talking about. If there is another reason why this persons IP address was captured, I want to know."

Ian slipped under the blankets that Taylor had placed on the sofa for them. Turning on his side he regarded Frank as he took off his glasses and placed them on the end table. "So Tipper's agreed to do this with us tomorrow, and the weather will be fair enough. What do you suppose we will find and who owned the map afore she found it?"

"Who ever made the map took care to hide something. It could be anything. What would you wish it was? Treasure?" Frank teased then watched Ian shake his head.

"Eh, na exciting as what we found afore as the family gathered. Still, maybe Molly is looking for the adventure in it, and na something that's buried. I did a fair bit of reading about the lads they called privateers, and the pirates, an some seemed like decent enough folks - others, well, that they would shoot your eyeball out as soon as look at you. That the really nasty ones made getting to the treasure more of a stay alive if you can… and that may be more than she knows what to do with."

"Only if your there for her to run to as her rescuer…" Frank said, teasing Ian with a grin. To Frank's surprise Ian lowered his eyes, and a faint blush was seen on his young cheeks.

"Ah, well, that thought had crossed my mind," he said sheepishly.

Ian wiggled under the blankets. The morning air was crisp to his nose and he knew that every bit of warmth that he could steal from his covers would be a blessing. He could just see the dim streaks of the sunrise peaking over the horizon. `Must be as late as 4:30,` he thought, stretching like a cat. If he had any hope of getting first in the shower that he had better do it then before his sisters were up. He never could understand why it took so long for them to get ready. Granted, the unlimited hot water was lovely. Not that he would blame his Aunt, but she had words with them about the water bill. Curling his toes he rolled back the covers. Yes the morning happened to be very cold. It had occurred to him that with winter, it was going to get much colder than he'd ever known. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes he worked his way upstairs. He could tell by the soft snoring in the room that the girls were asleep. For a moment he stood in the door frame watching. Ian felt different inside. He loved his sisters- and a year past if you would have told him he could be independent from his twin sister he would have shaken his head. His dad's death had taken something from him. He became the man of the family too quickly. If one of them should have had to give up their child hood for the good of everyone, it had fallen to him. His uncle hadn't put that burden on him, and he was grateful for that. Aunt Taylor was doing everything that she could to give them normal childhoods – as normal as could be expected he supposed.

The shower water was exquisite dancing over his shoulders as he scrubbed himself fiercely. It was the only time that he really felt warm in the day. He had heard kids at school speaking about a hot tub, and how you could cook yourself in it if you stayed too long in the hot water- much like a boiled chicken. He thought well that he might risk it, if just for a time. Sighing he turned off the water and snagged his towel from the rack. He had used enough hot water to keep him warm for long enough that he could dress. Wrapping the towel about his thin hips he blinked back the beads of water then groaned. He had left his clothing in the girls room. There was nothing to do except to go in and get them off of his cube and then hope that the steamy heat of the shower hadn't left the bathroom before he had a chance to get back in there.

This wasn't good at all. Not that his sisters hadn't seen him in just a towel, but, he was hoping as he went into the room that that woman was still asleep. There was nothing that could be done about it now. He wasn't about to call to his Aunt Taylor to get his things for him. Swallowing he made his way across the room and snagged his pants and shirt as well as his undergarments. He closed his eyes as he heard his bed creak. He didn't want to turn around to see if she was looking, but he knew that he had to go past her if he wanted to go out the door. Swallowing again, he walked out of the room and closed the door. He didn't breath a sigh of relief until he was safe inside the bathroom with the door closed again.

Letting out the breath she was holding Jan placed her head back down on the pillows the image of what she had seen imprinted on her brain. Mort had placed her here for a reason. It was about the care of the children, and from what she had just seen, these children were ones in crisis. She had seen similar markings on Patty's back, and some scars on Shauna when they had dresses for bed- but nothing like what Ian had. She couldn't imagine what parent could do that to their child. From the condition of the scaring, it looked like they had been inflicted with in the last year. Mort had said that Ian had arrived early in the summer the others came later. The children were

well behaved. She'd never seen any large group of kids or family set so in their routine. It was if they were disciplined to do the expected tasks. The only odd one was the littlest with her game of

repeating things, children did that often- though, Jan wondered why Taylor would allow that to continue.

When Jan came down for breakfast with the girls she found Taylor sitting at the head of the table sipping tea as she looked over Frank's shoulder. He was explaining what he had found and the path that they were going to take that day as soon as Tipper came. She would drive them to the starting spot which he was pretty sure was the Willow on the cliff side. Taylor nodded. "There are steps that go down to the shore at that point- but I would prefer if you didn't go down to the beach area, the tide comes up rather quickly, and if you get stuck, we will be picking you out of the lobster traps. Do you understand?"

Frank nodded. "Yes ma'am." Carefully Frank pinned the printed out copy that he had made of the large map with the path that they had planned to take and placed it on the dining room table. It was one of the conditions, that they left where they were going with an adult, and that they would follow the guidelines. Frank and Ian had reassured Taylor they were quite done with adventures.

Looking up at the brisk knock Taylor saw Tipper place her knapsack on the deck and enter into the kitchen as she lifted her tea cup to her lips she heard Margarita pipe up, "Hello Sweetheart" in a deep voice.

Tipper looked at Margarita, then over to Taylor as the tea cup slipped out of Taylor's hands and clattered to the table. The only thing that stopped it from smashing was the tea cozy that it had hit when it came down. Taylor swayed and grasp the table. Frank knew enough to move out of his seat and guide Taylor to sit down.

"She could have heard anyone, Taylor!" Tipper told her, giving Taylor's shoulders a shake. Glancing back to where Margarita sat chatting to the wall in a soft sing song voice, Taylor finally

nodded. "I'm alright," she said softly. "It was just- a shock, that's all, I'm fine. Best you all go to pick up Miss Imbored."

Ian came in to the room lugging his knap sack that had the lunch in it. "Aunt Taylor!" he said faintly scandalized "You tell us na to call anyone names! Besides… It's 'Princess Imbored.' He grinned, giving her a half hug. "See you in four hours, or before if we find the

treasure…"

Taylor watched the children leave with Tipper then turned to see Jan regarding her with a worried expression on her face.

"What?" Taylor asked, curious.

Molly was waiting on the porch with her knapsack on her shoulder. Her aunt had informed her that a lot of the coast line had changed in the last 200 years and it was unlikely that they would find anything on the first try. Molly had shrugged. She had GPS on her phone- she knew exactly where they needed to be to find the treasure. Giving her dad a kiss on the cheek she had gone outside to wait. Her heart was pounding in her chest. She had heard that Tipper had helped to find the treasure that Ian's family had lost many years ago, and that it was worth millions, maybe billions, except that they had taken it and put it in a museum. She had even got a curious glimpse at the gold that Frank had, the coin that he would regard once in a while and then put back in a safe place. Ian had told her that his cousin had died, and that it grieved the family to think about it. She waved to Tipper as the small Honda Civic pulled up and into the slot beside the house. She could see Patty in the back, Frank up front and Ian in the back with Patty. She slid out of the car letting Molly sit in the center seat so that Ian could explain what they had found.

Flipping open her phone Molly turned on the GPS and looked at the numbers. She had tested what she had thought the night before when standing on the deck of the house and looking at the map Frank had found. As they drew near the coast line road the numbers that Molly had from the map began to get closer to the one on the phone. They were nearly at the willow when Molly yelled, "Stop the Car!" Tipper pulled the Honda to the overlook parking area.

Putting the car into park and turning off the ignition, Tipper turned to regard what Molly was looking at. Molly unfastened her seat belt, then sprang from the car. "This is it!" she said, hopping up and down with excitement. The boys looked doubtfully at each other. Right away she whirled and began to pace out then stopped where the railing was that would prevent people from going over the edge. Tipper saw her turn, her face dejected.

"Well, bang goes that theory," she grumbled.

"What is it? What's wrong?" inquired Patty.

Sighing she turned and pointed. "Thirty paces that way is open water. Ether the cliff fell away, or the map is bogus." She sighed again turning off her cell phone and slipping it in her pocket. "None of the numbers make any sense after that."

Ian regarded the map that Frank was smoothing on the cars hood. "It's not always going to be simple, Molly. It didn't make sense until I accidentally let the map fall and it flipped over. The whole thing was backwards to the real map."

"What if the numbers were written backwards? Or the directions are backwards?" asked Ian.

"Then we could be wandering around for a long time," Tipper said pragmatically. "What do you want to do?" she asked, biting her bottom lip.

"Well, we are here. Can't hurt to look around, and maybe even, well, do the map backwards," shrugged Ian. He watched Frank give a nod, and a shy smile towards Tipper. Any time spent with her was time well spent.

Tipper regarded the map. "Well, there are enough of us we can try something. Let's follow a hunch of mine. If the person wanted to hide something that much, and there isn't many directions that they could follow, then, well, maybe the changed the direction every time that they had to turn. Find your start spot again, Molly…" she said. Ian carried a large stone over and marked the spot.

"Okay, we know that the direction that the map wants us to go isn't right. So, turn around and do the same pacing in the opposite direction, then look at the numbers on your GPS."

Molly nodded. The pacing took her across the road nearly to the edge of the rock face of the hill side. "Was this here 300 years ago?" she asked, curious.

Tipper regarded the hillside. It had been cut away. "I think they had probably climbed a bit, but for right now, it should be okay. Now take that chalk that you brought, and mark the rock. Which way does it tell you to turn on the map?"

"To the right, for twenty paces."

"Then mark that on the rock…" Tipper called.

"Why?" the kids said together, turning and looking at Tipper.

"Because we left a map with Taylor, and if we aren't back that would be the one that they would follow. The thing is, if its not right, then we have to let them know where we are and where we are going to," she said simply.

Molly pulled out her chalk and wrote as best she could on the rock. Tipper nodded. If they did get lost and needed a rescue, it was something that was visible from where she stood. "Okay, Frank, Molly is going to stay in one place, your going to go to the right twenty paces and tell us what you find, and you will take her GPS with you."

Frank nodded and paced off the steps. Glancing down at the numbers he sighed and was about to shake his head when he looked at them again and turned the phone upside down. "Hey! The numbers match!" he shouted grinning. All of them came over to see. Excited he pointed to them. "They look different upside down," he said, pointing to the map, then inverting it.

"But that changes the direction we have to go again…almost back to where we started from!" Patty sighed.

"Maybe. Can't hurt to try, and we have the places marked if it's not right," shrugged Ian.

It took the better part of an hour to pace out where the map would take them. It was Ian who was the last one to go out in the last possible direction. Rounding a corner of the hillside he paused at

the sound of running water. A few more paces he came face to face with a hillside and a small man made fountain area that had water running over obsidian rocks that were pushed into the hillside in a steady two foot wide flow straight down, into a basin area. Over the top of it was written "Fountain of Youth."

"Bang goes that theory," he muttered to himself.

"Did you find anything?" Asked Molly breathlessly from calling out.

"Aye. An old joke," he said, sweeping his arms back the way he came "Someone had a right fool time of it. Fountain of youth, indeed, " he sighed. "The only treasure here are the coins people

toss in for luck…"

Tipper tilted her head. "Fountain of Youth? Really?" she asked, moving in Ian's direction.

He shrugged again. "Aye, its like, oh, what's your word, a fancy stone grotto."

Tipper blinked twice. "I've never heard of one being here."

Frank regarded it as the group gathered closer. "You know, the way we came, its pretty much the only way that someone would be able to find it. How old do you think it is?" he asked curiously.

"Pretty old. Fresh water to sailors was more important than gold, really. To have a location of a fresh water spring on the map was a treasure… I wouldn't drink it though, not now, there are too many contaminants in the soil and parasites that can make you sick." Tipper dug into her pocket and handed each of the kids a few coins to toss in. "Make a wish," she said, grinning as she closed her eyes and turned around to toss her coin in.

Ian watched as the others tossed, shaking his head at their foolishness he simply tossed his

through the water fall to the other side. He paused. "Tipper, do ye have another two coins on ye?" he asked curiously.

"You had one just like the others, Ian…" his sister began.

"Nae, I need you to listen to something…" Nodding Tipper handed him two more coins.

"Listen when I toss it in the water…" all of them waited with expectant glances at each other as he tossed it in. there was a "plop kerplump" as it hit the bottom.

"Now listen" he said, tossing the other coin through the water fall.

There was a change in the sound. Tipper straightened her back slightly "That echoed…"

Shrugging Ian went over to the fountains edge then dug in the pocket of his coat and peaked around the corner with his flash light. "There is an open space behind it. Any idea how we

get through with out getting soaked to the bone?"

Patty grinned. "I brought an umbrella… though our feet may get a bit wet if we aren't careful." The children began to move to the waterfall.

"Wait wait wait!" Tipper said, calling after them. "First rule of going into dark places, know where your going to. Second rule, always have a line out and not go further than the line will let you. If this is a cave, there are going to be thing in it, like spiders, and snakes and probably rats…"

Tipper found all of the children regarding her. "Like, you're a vet, your saying YOU are afraid of all of that?" teased Molly.

"Um, no. But as I'm a vet, I don't have the expertise to patch you up if killer rabbit begins to attack you."

Molly handed Tipper the umbrella and her flashlight. Sighing Tipper used the edge of the pond to walk around then stuck the umbrella in the water fall before turning on the flashlight. There was an area behind the waterfall and eyeing the pop cans that were scattered about, the 12x4 x 8 cave had been party central for the local kids at one time. It was more of a man made structure that housed a gravity fed pump house for the water fall. Shaking her head Tipper turned and saw something etched into the obsidian. `Curious rock that,' she mused to herself - when it was wet, it looked highly polished, hiding everything unless you looked at it the right way. She could see herself in the stone. It was a series of numbers. "Molly? Does your GPS plot things for you?" she asked in a soft voice.

"Uh huh…"

Carefully she read them to Molly, while Frank jotted them down. When she was done she searched the other side of the falls, but found nothing. She turned and saw Frank regarding the numbers. "What is it?" she asked

He pointed. "It takes us to the willow tree," he said softly. "I've been following how those numbers work. The thing is, it takes us past the tree, and I think down along the cliff face. That can't be safe."

Frank saw Tipper frown. "Well, the only thing more public than the Willow tree would be the

shore under it, they built steps to go down," she said as she leaned against the obsidian to secure her footing. There was a crunch, and groan of stone as the panel shifted backwards under her weight. A belch of foul air issued forth from the crevice and a loud burping sound came from the water fall itself, well more like behind it.. The water came to a stop over the waterfall leaving the door way open. Tipper turned again and flashed the beam in. The room was no bigger than what it was before, but something had changed. The floor was gone.

"Toss a pebble down there, Molly…" said Frank softly. Picking up a round stone, Molly tossed it in, For the longest time, they heard nothing, then the sound of it splashing into the water.

"So what happened?" asked Molly.

Tipper shook her head. She had experience from before with trigger switches. Sometimes, it just

happened that she leaned against the right part to make it go. "We can let Mort know about this - I don't want any young kids to get in there and get hurt." Carefully she made her way back off of the pond area to rejoin the kids. "In the meantime, we can check out the willow tree." Retracing their steps they found the spot where the numbers began and followed them with the aid of the GPS. It was mid-way down the steps that they heard the sound of the water falling down mid way of the cliff face. Tipper paused. "It wasn't like that before, not that I ever remember."

"It wouldn't, tha's an old waste water pipeline," said Ian softly, glancing at Frank.

Molly looked down at the shore line. "You know, the only thing that we haven't seen is what is above the waterfall…" She regarded their puzzled expressions. "The water had to come from some where. With the water not coming out of it, wouldn't there be a hole?"

She watched Tipper shrug. "I'm not too comfortable with that area right now - not when the floor

of the place isn't there any more and its changed the direction of the water exit." Tipper paused midway on the steps. She had heard the crunch of a car pulling into the gravel area and was curious. "Stay here," she said, going up the steps two at a time before stopping just at eye level. She saw a dark burgundy car next to her Honda. She couldn't make out the faces, not clearly from this distance, but the clipped British accents reminded her of how the queen spoke. One was tall and lanky with an off blue sports coat. The other wore a tan suit that looked like it had been in moth balls for many years.

"Yeah this is it, she has to be around here somewhere according to that receptionist and the information that we have. It's just not pin pointing them yet…"

"I'm telling you, they are related to the woman who sent the emails," said the man in the tan suit, looking older than his years. She watched as the man in the blue sports coat shrugged, turned to look at the hills where they had marked with chalk, then turned back to the man in the tan suit.

"Maybe. I know, though, they want them all taken care of."

"Hey- there is tailing them, and there is making sure that they are involved before anything is done," the tan suit stammered looking at the dark suit and holding out his hands.

Something made Tipper slide her hand into her pocket and grab her phone then key it to the camera. Holding her breath she snapped a photo of the two of them, then gasped as a soft shot rang out, for a moment the tan suit staggered holding his side. Bright blood bubbled from under his hands. Tipper grabbed the rail to steady herself. She had the presence of mind to snap another photo of him holding the gun up to the tan suited man, and she closed her eyes as the soft shot rang out again she clicked the camera again. She saw the man pitch forward onto the hood of her car and got the shot with her phone of the blue suited man tossing the gun into her front seat. She felt someone behind her, as a cool large hand covered her mouth and pulled her down as the blue suited man turned her way. Pocketing the phone she felt his other hand grasp hers and lead her down two steps, then he swung his leg over the rail and stepped in to the cliff face. She realized that the kids were not on the steps, and followed him. It was a narrow wedge that was hidden by the roots of the willow and the underbrush. His hand didn't let hers go as he lead her deeper into

the cave area. Breathing a sigh of relief she saw the kids sitting with the flash light on in a small opening of a cave that she realized was this man's home. Beckoning to Molly she asked to see her cell phone, and then removed the battery. She did the same to her own after sending the photos to Mort's email. She knew that turning them off wasn't good enough.

Mort sipped his caramel chocolate cappuccino slowly that he had purchased from Harrison's mini mart. Adele had placed him on a diet, and he was allowed one weakness a day. He never understood why the machine cappuccino's were better than when they were mixed by one of those great machines. It was really nice that Harrison had put a set of chairs in the right spot by the window by a little table. There was no way that he was in serious competition with the donut shop up the corner, but he did have a few heat and eats there that Mort didn't have to wait to be seated, or waited on, and he was fast becoming Harrison's best customer. He was about to take a bite of the Turkey and Swiss Sub that had under 4 grams of fat when his cell went off. Sighing he looked at the front of it and saw it was from Tipper. He placed the cell on the table and took a bite. As he chewed he looked at it, It wasn't a call, it was a text message that she had sent him. Something wasn't quite right. Looking up from his sandwich before he took another bite, he called out to Harrison. "Didn't you tell me Tipper went with the kids on their adventure today?" He watched as Harrison nodded as he filled a cup of Vanilla Chocolate Almond Cappuccino for himself.

"Yeah. Particularly brilliant plan. Took me three days to fake a map and find an old batch of boxes at the antique store to toss in the basement that she could discover. The map would lead them to the Ice Cream Shoppe on the main drag near the light house. Bit of exercise for them, and they have a small treasure chest with chocolate coins for each of the kids when they get there. She wanted to get into the treasure hunt so bad once she got her GPS figured out. Wasn't hard to borrow it when she was at school and do the leg work, but they will have to walk about two miles both ways to get to the end. I think that will be the end of her wandering for the rest of the school year…" Harrison chuckled.

Mort grinned then flipped open the phone as he took a sip of coffee Most of the contents spewed out when he saw the pictures that she had taken.

"DAMN IT"! Mort shouted, jumping up.

"What? What is it?" Harrison asked concerned.

"Grab your keys, you have to show me where they started. When did they leave?" he asked, grabbing his coffee and coat.

"They started about two hours ago. I figured that the trip would take them about 5 hours total, and they have their cells if they were too tired to walk back they knew they could call. They started near Bayside Road ... why? What's wrong?"

Mort swallowed as he forwarded the photos to Andy's and his email on the computer at the station. Closing the message he hit a few buttons and spoke as he walked out the door. "Andy, check your email and print it out, meet us at Bayside Road, let Floyd know there is trouble and to be on the look out for a dark burgundy car driven by someone in a blue sports coat. Don't apprehend, just get the license number of it and keep an eye on where they go."

He felt a hand on his arm and turned to Harrison who had questions in his eyes as Mort hung up the phone. "As far as I know the kids are safe. Angela will do everything to her last breath to make sure of that," he said as he opened the passenger door of his cruiser for Harrison to get in.

It was a tense ten minute drive as Mort sped along Route 1A, then pulled into where Harrison indicated the map would have taken them. As they came to the pull off Mort shot a look at Harrison. There was no sign of the car at all. He put the car in park and both of them got out to look around.

"There are no tire tracks," Harrison observed, glancing about the entire length of the overlook. Even thought the wind was brisk, there was no sign of anything coming in to the over look all day. Frowning Harrison flipped open his cell and dialed home. "Gretchen… Go into Molly's room and look at the box that she brought up from the basement." He waited a moment. " Okay, tell me what it looks like…" Mort heard Gretchen's voice on the other end and the look of confusion on Harrison's face. "Okay, check down in the basement. This one had two straps across it with carved in sea shells… " there was another pause before Harrison sat down, his face white. "I don't know, but want you to go to Taylor's to wait." Ending the call he looked up at Mort. "They aren't using the map I made. I didn't look over her shoulder, I should have. I don't know where they got the map that they used- but its not the one that I made." Panic was creeping into his voice.

Mort flipped his phone open and speed dialed Taylor's. There was a few rings before Jan answered it. "Jan, is Taylor about?" he asked trying to keep his voice calm.

He heard Jan say softly, "I made her lay down. Margarita said something this morning and it really upset her but she wouldn't say why. Is there something I can help you with?"

"Maybe. Do you happen to know where the kids were starting out their treasure hunt?"

"Yes, Frank said he knew the place, it was by a willow tree near the coast..." He heard the serious tone in her voice.

"Jan, Gretchen will be arriving soon, There was a mix up in the maps. The one they were supposed to use wasn't the one they took. We don't know where the map came from that they found. We are just trying to see if every thing is okay…"

"Don't give me that Mort! I know you! What is going on?" Jan hissed into the phone.

"I can only tell you to be very aware that something isn't right, and once Gretchen is there, to get the three of you over to Jessica's house and lock yourselves in. Taylor has the key. Now tell me what Margarita said this morning."

"Well, I don't know why it would upset her. She just said, "Hello Sweetheart" in a deeper voice, almost sounded like a man."

Mort swallowed as he hung up the phone. "Harrison, we have a fair idea where they are. Get in."

Harrison nodded and swung his legs in. Mort swallowed again then closed his phone. "So… why did you tell Jan to get them to Jessica's house? Mort, what is going on?" He watched as Mort took the battery out of his phone. "Mort?"

Mort started the car and turning it around headed back down the highway. "I'm sorry. I guess I've learned to be a bit paranoid, but, all the super spy stories like the fairy tales we tell kids all have a basis of truth. Somehow this all started and I don't know where its going to end. Yes, the kids are in danger. We are too, as well as anyone that we've contacted. We could hide, or we can work to get to the bottom of this, and end it once and for all. It's up to you, how involved you want to get. Once we find the kids and get them to safety…"

"Look, if who ever is responsible is that bad and scary, I don't want him to ever have a chance to hurt my kid, or her friends. Being close to death changes how you look at things. Tell me what I need to know."

Mort hesitated a moment as he turned onto the main highway. "A few years ago, a couple of men were working together to rescue children who had been buried under the rubble of the blast that took out an elementary school. Right then and there they decided that it had to end and to bring who was responsible to justice. The only thing I know is that, well, the people responsible aren't who the media would think would be… Not the real people who are organizing the bombings and the problems we have been having. It's frightening that they have access to the technology they do, and how they can track people. Frank found an IP address that shouldn't be on his computer, and it links Scotland Yard to all of this." Mort watched the struggle on Harrison's face.

"Well, sure the Yard would be involved if there were bombings… I take it that this happened overseas?" He watched Mort tilt his head and sighed.

"Yes, it started overseas, but the Yard isn't in it as the good guys," he said at last. He glanced at Harrison briefly as he sat in silence.

"Oh," he said at last. Harrison took a breath then turned to Mort. "Oh," he said again digesting the information. He let out the breath in a sigh. "And the kids are in the middle of this- how?" He

watched Mort swallow and for the longest time he didn't say anything.

"Mort?" Harrison said again. "How are the kids involved in this? And why isn't Willie here to protect them?"

"It was Ian's school. He and Patty and Shauna were there when it happened, and they have the shrapnel still in their skin from the blast that killed 45 children who were going outside to play. Taylor figured that out just after Willie went back home to Ireland.. He wants to make the children's home here for good. His sister… well… she hasn't been right since her husbands death. Mither is doing what she can to care for her and her child, but, he looks too much like

his father I guess." Mort saw Harrison's eyebrow flick upward. That was the official story that had been told regarding Willie going home.

Harrison blinked a few times then sighed. "Oh," he said at last. Mort glanced at him again and nodded.

Molly looked at Tipper, shrugging. "Well, we are here anyway…" she said softly. "Can we at least try while we wait? I mean, if he comes down the steps he might find the entrance…" she saw Tipper put her hand up to silence her. They heard the footsteps coming down the steps, pause a moment before going back up them. They could hear the crunch of the gravel as he walked above them. From the direction, he was heading to where they had placed the first marker. Tipper knew that their path was well marked. He hadn't seen them on the beach. There wasn't any place that he knew that they could go, and it would stand to reason, that if he thought her cell phone was in the car, it would account for her position to be right there.

The footsteps went on to fade above them. Every one breathed a sigh of relief, then held it as the crunch of gravel returned to where the car was, before it pulled off and drove down the street. Tipper placed her head in her hands and closed her eyes. Just then she felt as if she should crawl in bed and not ever come out again. She felt someone pat her shoulder. Lifting her head she saw Molly standing by the entrance of the tunnel with her flash light shining in. "Can we go in?" she asked tilting her head with a pouty lip pushed out.

"You don't understand the nature of sea caves, Molly. You may think there is only one way in to a chamber, but, when you turn around there are four ways out, and each one of them may not be the way that you wanted to go. The floor could give way, you could get stuck, a lot of people who do know what they are doing die each year in the caves."

"But we have a map, and rope, and we know how to mark the cave walls like we did up there- we can tie the rope around a rock and then just go to the end of it, and see if we find anything interesting. By the looks of the map, it shouldn't be far at all. Please?"

Tipper drew in a breath. They would ether have to stay down here until Mort found who ever had shot the man, or she would have to risk taking the kids up to the surface for them to see the dead man on the trunk of her car. Sighing, she looked around for a rock, then decided to tie it around one of the roots of the willow tree that made a natural looped area. Tipper made sure the knot was secure. "Okay. Just until we hear Mort get here- but you have to be quiet, we don't know where he has gone off to." Sighing, she took another section of rope and looped it in each of their belts. "Don't wander off…" she murmured taking up the front of the rope after securing theirs to her belt. She made sure that Molly was between Ian and Frank. It had been a fair guess to say the rooms split off, and with Tommy in the group as well showing them what a man's stride would do, it helped to save from going in the wrong direction. She felt a pause behind her as Frank stopped, straining his ears to catch a sound.

"Um, Tipper. I had a thought. If, the path takes us in the same way that it did before… then, well, isn't that where the water went?

Tipper looked down at the rope- they still had about thirty feet to go. "Um ... probably," she said carefully.

Molly shook her head. "No, that was only because we were changing the directions when we ran into an obstacle. We might come near the water, but not where the water went."

Patty hadn't said much the whole time she was there. She wasn't too keen on Molly's adventures. She had charged herself with looking out after Ian, now that he was feeling better, there was no end to the trouble he could get into. Especially with Molly. Patty had seen the curious looks that Molly had given first Frank, and then Ian when the boys weren't looking, and she recognized that look from older girls who were looking for a lad or two to chase. The boys were a bit daft to all of this. Mum had said the boys would be daft until the day after they became parents. Reality would set in then, and ether they bolted, or they became men overnight. Mum had said, that Da was a good man, not one to be forgotten but they needed a proper father now that Da was gone. Patty had seen though, the way that men looked at her mother when she was out trimming the flowers, the baby in the basket beside the walk. They would come and chat with her- the town

knew them as being Mither's kin, though they were hard pressed to make the connection between their mother, and the children as she worked to distance herself from them. She didn't love them less, she couldn't love them more. That was the heart ache. She couldn't tend to all of them, and they all knew the baby needed a father.

A bump from Frank ahead of her made her stop.

"What is it?" Patty asked softly.

"We've come to the end of the rope," said Frank.

"Maybe if we went back and undid the knots?" Molly suggested.

Ian shook his head behind her. "Nae it would give you maybe a yard. We know now what is down here…we can come back with more rope and proper lighting."

"Okay, everyone, let's turn around and head back, I will coil the rope as we go."

The group turned and gasped. High on the shelf behind them something glittered in the their flash light beams. There were cut steps in the rock wall leading up to it. Molly undid her rope tie with a tug and was half way up before they realized what she was doing.

"No! Molly Stop!" was all that Frank had a chance to gasp before she reached forward to remove one of the gold chains that hung with in her grasp.

There was a rumble further down the cave and a belching gasp as part of the tunnel roof came down blocking their exit. When the dust had settled and the group finished coughing they stood around Molly, who had been knocked off the steps in the process.

Patty was about to give Molly a piece of her mind about what an idiotic thing she had done and had she listened to what Tipper had said they would be home safe in half an hour. Ian held up his had and stopped what his sister had been about to say. "There is nothing for that now. We are all safe, and didn't get flattened by it all."

Ian looked to Tipper. "What do we do now?"

"We stay put," she said softly.

Taking a breath Tipper motioned for them to sit, then said "Turn out your flashlights, we need to save the batteries. Look, there are a few things you should know. First, we have to think about the air that we use. I don't know if this cave is sealed, but if so, we are in an air pocket and we will need to conserve the air. The second is that cave temps start at 52, and even though we have our winter jackets on, its, going to get cold for us. And that can be a problem. We do have water, and some food. Even… even if we put the battery back in our cell phones, we wouldn't be able to get through the rock to send a signal. We can last a while, okay? A couple of days easy if we stay calm. Mort knows we are here, in this area. He's a smart guy and won't stop until he finds us."

Patty reached over and patted Tipper's hand. "Its okay, Dr. Tipper. We understand."

Molly looked between Patty and Tipper who was leaning against the wall with her eyes closed.

"Understand what?" she asked, perplexed.

Patty sighed. "That it may be our bones that they will be finding," she said at last.

Patty leaned against the wall then pulled back. "Ow," she grumbled. "We can't be far away from the entrance, those Asarlaí fingers have worked their way through everywhere."

"The what?" asked Molly puzzled.

"It means 'wizard.' It's the trees roots. They are everywhere!"

"Mind the Asarlaí. Why would Faraday tell me to mind that?" Drawing in a breath Tipper stood up and went to the other side of the tunnel and ran her hand over the wall. When she turned back she saw Patty whispering to Molly, and the confused look on Molly's face. `Lord love a duck, she's learning that I speak to ghost…' though Tipper.

"Alright… What we are going to do is follow the tunnel as long as it stays near the willow tree roots. I have a feeling that it used the tunnels as a way to access the underground stream that is here. Molly, you did bring the chalk with you, right? If it doesn't work, we can follow it back here, but something tells me, it should. Watch where you step, and keep an eye on the root system…"

"Can we get some of the treasure?" asked Molly.

She was surrounded by a chorus of "NO."

Mort surveyed the body on Tipper's car as the cast from the tire tracks were setting. The view though, had to come from a different angle. He turned, and paced, following the line of footsteps to the rail and went down. 'Yes, she would have had to have seen it from there…' he mused, He went all the way down the steps and looked around on the sandy shores. There was no sign of their footprints down here, no trace of blood. Unless they had been caught, but he didn't see who ever did this would take on four kids and an adult. Sighing he turned and looked up the steps. What surprised him the most was the residue of dust that was issuing from the side of the tree roots. Taking the steps two at a time he swung his leg over the rail and worked his way to the entrance of the cave.

"Damn," he breathed softly as he regarded the rocks that had filled the back of the cave. The rope they had tied to the root lead directly through the rocks. For a moment he stood with his eyes

pressed closed fighting back the tears. Taking a breath he slid the battery back into his phone and went to the cave entrance to make a call.

Mort went back up the steps all the way to where Harrison was standing with his cell phone to his ear. He turned and looked at Mort. "We have a name of the person who did this - we think it's one of Jan's people - well, someone that she works with for the international affairs. Elden something. He was supposed to get in contact with Jan in regards to the shooting yesterday, but didn't. He matches the description on the cell phone photo. He went to Grady and Donna's place and Lucky bit him before he could get three feet into the house. He'd kicked open the door, and she nailed him. They only knew he was breaking and entering… Floyd and Andy have him in custody now, and he's not going any where soon. Floyd did a powder residue for his hands, and found he had fired a gun in the last few hours, and a judge signed a warrant for the search and they found casings from a second gun under the front seat of the car. What… why are you looking so worried?" he asked at last.

"Harrison… they went into a cave, and… from the looks of things, the roof came down. "

"What are we waiting for then?" Harrison said heading for the steps.

Mort caught his arm and held him back. "Look… if it came down once, it will come down again. I don't know how far the cave in went back, I can't tell that. I did see the rope you gave to Molly tied on part of a root and it lead right into where the cave in was. The only thing that we can hope is that it will lead us to where they are. The cliffs here are riddled with sea caves, and not all of them are good to go into. I called for the fire company to send a rescue team here, but. Harrison… I'm sorry, even if they are on the other side of the rocks, they may not have the time that it takes to get them out of there… There are pockets of methane that they won't be able to smell, or know they are in… knowing Tipper, she'd keep them in one place, and that may be the worst thing for them."

"That's my daughter!" he said firmly, heading for the steps.

With the three girls in tow, Jan and Gretchen helped Taylor across the yard as she carried something long wrapped in her arms. Oliver nestled in Shauna's arms as she looked first one way then the other. Something was very wrong, the kids knew this- they had heard Jan on the phone. Emily had the sense to gather the map that Frank had left on the table as well as the directions that he had noted. Scarcely had they got into the house and the door closed behind them as a

white car pulled into the street and slowly pulled up along the neighbor's front yard. Jan hurried the children down the basement steps while Gretchen assisted Taylor. They had just tugged the

basement door closed when firm steps could be heard on the back porch of the house they had just left. There was a rattle of the door knob and the shattering of glass. Shauna leaned against the wall and felt it give slightly behind her. Gasping she turned – then grasped Jan's arm. Turning Jan saw the wall had begun to swing inward. Giving that a push it gave way to show a small hiding hole. Jan stepped in, and made sure that there was a way that they could open it from the

inside before ushering them all in and closing it. by the time Jan sat down on the floor next to Margarita, she was shaking like a leaf.

"What is this place?" whispered Emily.

Taylor took a breath. "I think it was part of the underground rail road- where they smuggled slaves to freedom to Canada. I don't think that Jessica realized it was here…"

They would have to wait for the all clear from Mort, They knew Jessica would be home tomorrow, and they knew that if they were missing for that length of time there would be a lot of questions.

Taylor sighed and leaned against the wall hugging the sword that was wrapped in the sheath. Something told her that she had to take it with her, it was the only proof that they had of their heritage. Sighing, Taylor knew to defend her family, she would use it.

In the darkness the girls huddled together for warmth. They heard the door up in the kitchen bang open and the thud of heavy footsteps come across the floor, searching the place for signs of them. They could hear the steps go up to the upstairs, doors being flung open then the heavy footsteps coming down the steps. There was a pause at the bottom. She saw everyone holding their breaths as the steps came closer to where they were hiding, then they stopped. Jan could hear her heart beating in her chest. A jangle of a cell phone outside of where they were caused them all to jump.

"Yeah, I did, no sign of them… what do you mean you had to? Where are you now?" ( a sigh) "No, he is NOT going to be happy. What about Eddington? … Yeah well, I don't care who her old man is. They know too much already. Look, there are too many questions that are going to be asked as it is… snuffing them all is going to bring in too much attention. Your plan isn't working, its time to go for the throat…" Sighing he hung up and felt something very sharp poking in his back. Curious, he turned to face Taylor, who seemed to appear out of nowhere wielding the sword. Her eyes held no fear, only a deadly calm as she raised the sword to his throat and pushed the tip of the blade into his Adam's apple.

"I've realized that I'm growing tired of what your and your associates activity's are doing to my family and my peace of mind. Tell me what I want to know and I will think about letting you live…"

She watched him scoff. "Your not a killer, its not in your blood…" Unblinking she leaned a fraction of a inch in closer allowing the blade to cut through his skin. He tried to take a step back. There was a coldness to her voice.

"Maternal instinct," she said, leaning in a fraction more.

Winfred moved with quiet steps through the lower alleys where he knew that the street urchins traveled. There was an urgency to how he searched the darkness- his evening had been interesting- the shock of the explosion had rocked the community. Idly his fingers played with the dial of his transmitter bringing in voices from other precincts. His blood had run colder as he glanced at the transmission numbers, the higher you went for the signal, the higher the chain of

command became. Perhaps the transmitter was the only way to get the information out.

He had been down this way many times for domestic disputes, and he knew if any place, it would be where Willie would hide. He gripped the bag next to him a bit tighter, and felt something cold, hard and metallic poke into him. Pausing he leaned against a battered

fire escape and withdrew the pouch that George had given him. His fingers traced to a bit of metal that poked out. Opening the pouch, he worked his fingers into a small seam and with a bit of luck, withdrew something that he knew shouldn't be there. He knew that the man who gave him the pouch wouldn't have placed a micro homing device in the bag- it would have to be from another source.

"Bless my giddy aunt…" he murmured. Sighing, he knew that the homing device was working, and that had he give it to Willie, they would have continued to find him. If he abandoned it, they would know, and strike again at some one else. He grinned as he heard a small squeak near him. Balling up the transmitter wire, he reached in his pocket and found a sticky square of gum. He grimaced as he placed the chewing gum, lint and all into his mouth. After a moment, when the

gum was soft he broke off a section and wrapped it about the homing device then tossed it near the corner of the alley where he knew several large rats were congregating. He nodded as the largest of them snagged the piece and ran with it. Even if it kept the device busy for the next twelve hours while he located Willie it would give him some time.

He could see the lights ahead, of the trash fires, and as he moved through those who gathered there, he felt no fear. He felt a bump at his side. Turning he saw a larger man who's eyes held the glint of amusement. Winfred stopped walking and regarded him. The man's face was creased with dirt, and time and he could tell this man was one of the gang bosses who kept order in their world.

"I've come to see Asarlaí,"

"Have you, now?" The voice was low, with a lilt of laughter within. "And what makes you think he would see you? You seem fit, for now… or is it a different want that you need?" he asked, his face creating a leer. "No one sees him, and returns the same…"

Winfred nodded. "I have seen him before, and I am not the same man." He heard Willie's soft voice behind him.

"Why did you bring the bag?" Willie asked Winfred softly.

"Your friend told me to - he gave it to me right after your apartment went up. I've removed the homing device and fed it to a rat, it will keep moving for 12 hours, at least. You knew it was there, and left it?" Winfred turned in time to see Willie nodding slowly.

"Aye. To let them think they had fooled me. Bloody nuisance to find bits of metal poking in you from your own clothing. Why did you come?"

Winfred gulped in air. "Because I overheard on the scanner that things had gone across the pond to settle it, and I didn't want that to happen. It needs to end before the world is torn apart in grief."

"Not both worlds?" a voice asked behind him. "Not the worlds of what we have been told exist?"

"It's still a child that dies, and we are reduced by that!" Winfred cried, waving his arms in the air. He turned back to see Willie regarding him sadly.

"I had thought to change the world by ridding it of the evils of guns, but, I can only reach so far. I'm stopped- by how I've started things. "

"Then tell me. I've only begun in all of this, and if its not stopped, it won't be a world that I wish to live in…"

"We know how, this is happening. We know where, and who, and we are stopped because of what we are," said the gang boss grimly.

Willie saw the puzzle in Winfred's eyes.

"It's regarding the weapons of war, and who owns them. For years, all of this was fostered on the different groups. A church would be targeted, and a group would step forward to claim responsibility. It wasn't that way though, it was those who have kept the law who were doing it. And following it, it was the man who wrote the laws that made it so."

The gang saw the shock and disbelief in Winfred's eyes. It passed as he swallowed. "You have proof then, of this? You would have to for them to be coming at you so. My giddy aunt, Mum told me there would be long days. Then your answer to this is what? Short of murder, how far

would you go to undo the harm?" Winfred asked curiously. He didn't get an answer, not at first from Willie, though he saw the group looking at each other.

"No, not death of the body…" said Willie softly. "But the mad man behind this needs to be put down to where he can not harm another, and if your words that they have gone across the pond ring true, then there is no more waiting on this. It must be done, It must risk everything…"

Winfred looked puzzled as Willie reached in his jacket and withdrew an envelope that was wrapped in a handkerchief. He handed it to Winfred, still wrapped. "Listen to me lad. There is a danger being caught with that, or touching it, so take care not to. Follow the address on the label and carry it to where its to go. Let them do the touching of it, and speak to no one when what follows. And if you should happen to see George, let him know what you've done."

For a long moment Winfred regarded Willie, then looked at the address. "You can't go to where this takes you… "

Willie shook his head. "No, I cannot."

Winfred looked about. He was surrounded by several rings of people, and he realized that of all of them there, he was the only one that had the external respectability that would allow him to walk openly to the place where the letter was to be delivered. The rags that marked them, the dirt under their nails, and the weathered face would shout to the others that these people were out of place above. Sucking in his breath he knew his world had become smaller- these people were ones in need just as much as the little old lady he had left the groceries for. Letting it out he said to Willie softly, "You have my life."

He nodded then strode through the parting rings the way he came. One of the gang bosses shook his head. "They may be waiting the last way you went, this way is better…"

Almost too quickly Winfred found himself standing in front of a large rotating mirrored cube. People could post in the main lobby all the time. This had to go up though, to one of the higher floors. With a cautious eye he regarded the movement of people in the main lobby and moved with the crowd as they crossed to the elevators. He knew cameras were all around him, and knew at one point he would have to answer why he was there. It was a puzzle to him why he wasn't challenged all the way up to the 4th floor. Others were by random checkpoints. Ether his uniform gave him unquestionable access… or… they were aware that he was coming. If they knew he was coming, he wouldn't be leaving any time soon under his own power. Finding a place to post this would be difficult at best- the other problem he would have would be how to discard the handkerchief with out it being found. He knew enough forensic science that there was bound to be fibers from Willie's coat on it. maybe even some hair, or DNA. By the same token, his jacket no doubt had left trace lint on it as well. He shifted the letter from his jacket pocket to the palm of his hand and kept the handkerchief tucked about. He could now drop it in, or lay it down with out being seen too much. As he turned the corner to where the offices were he saw his answer. The mail cart with the lad who pushed it down the hall sitting on the secretaries desk wooing her before he delivered his packages. He saw the camera then, perched in the corner- if he did it there they would have him on tape. He kept walking up to the secretary's desk, placing him

between the camera and giving the mail lad a look that sent him scurrying back to get his packages he leaned forward.

"I've come for the files that were removed from my prescient with out authorization from the Super Chief," he said firmly, leaning on her desk. He saw her fluster before sliding her chair back slightly.

"The Yard removes at their discretion files from precincts for review of practices every day, sir. They are seldom returned," she managed to say cooly.

"That may be so lass, but we can't make an arrest if the evidence keeps disappearing under our nose and a lot of innocent people are being hurt as a result. How would you feel if it was happening in your safe neighborhood every night? I and mine aren't getting much sleep over it."

"You will need to fill out forms to request those files sir, to be signed by your super chief," she said, pushing her chair back to pull open the file drawer.

"We've done that every time, your office has had enough time to look them over, now we want them back so we can do the job you pay us for."

"I'm sorry. All files that are collected by this office aren't kept here. You will need to go downstairs to the hall of records to speak with them…"

Winfred let his shoulders slump slightly. "They sent me here, your sending me back down there. Is it any wonder or has your office lost them? If there are any other forms you would like me to fill out to get them back, please get them for me now so I can get this well and done with before next supper." Winfred heard a rustle behind him. He knew the mail carrier was waiting, and giving a sigh as she turned to get the papers he stepped to the side and took the handkerchief with his thumb to pull it away from the envelope leaving the envelope on the desk as the mail carrier placed the stack of new mail on top of it. he knew that if the camera records would be studied that it might show what had happened, but the mail carrier was between the camera and the desk. He balled the handkerchief in his hand and waited until she popped her head back from the file cabinet. Shoving a stack of papers at him she gave him a withering glare. "Fill these out, have your super chief sign them, and then hand deliver them to this office," she said with an

exasperated sigh. Winfred nodded his thanks then taking the papers he strode from the office to the elevator.

He folded them and placed them in his breast coat pocket as the elevator door closed. He had given Willie his life. He didn't know what made him say that except something about the man gave him hope for a better time. He considered chucking the papers in to the

trash, but then had an idea. Why not do the follow through? His super chief would do it. Nodding to himself as he burst into the crisp air he grinned. Yes, he would return to the super chief, explain that he had come to the yard seeking answers and if there was any chance of getting the files back, this was it.

Briskly Winfred strode up the steps to his super chief's office. He had spent the time filling out the papers, he went over in his mind regarding what he would say to his super chief, and how he was going to go back into the lions den to deliver them and then come what may, see it through. He heard his super chief commenting that Winfred's shift was over and that he would be reporting in soon, and would they like a cuppa tea?

Winfred heard the decisive "no" from a familiar voice. The tone of the "no" was enough to tell him something was very wrong, and that he would fair better on the mercy of those he had just left the letter with at the Yard. Closing his eyes, he took a breath. He had to put that letter out of his mind, he had to concentrate on the whys and what he was going to say to his super to make things safe for the voice who had just said "no" and all those they cared for. Drawing in a breath to steady him he opened the door to face her, and his super chief who was grim faced. An arched eyebrow followed him as he crossed the room to give his young bride to be a proper polite kiss. By her right, she didn't turn away, but there was something in her eyes that bore through him.

"I know your reason to be here is important dearest, but I need one moment with my super chief, and then I will be with you…" he murmured into her ear. She nodded, watching him with red rimmed eyes as he straightened up and turned. Swallowing he pulled the papers from his vest pocket and handed them to the super chief. "I was at the Yard, looking for the papers they have of ours, and they gave me these papers for you to sign so that we might get them back and solve this nonsense once and for all. If your so inclined, I will return the papers in the morning to them," Winfred swallowed again as his super chief blinked slowly.

"You're not a lad to go off lightly on reason Winfred. If your feeling that this may solve things, I'm not going to be the one to stay your hand from this madness, though you may have many other things to conceder before the morning light hits your pillow." Withdrawing a pen, the super chief opened the packet of papers and swiftly signed the forms for Winfred before handing them back to him unread. "I will leave you to sort out your next set of duties, and I will grant you two days to deal with this all before your to return to your work shift." Nodding to the young woman he exited the room closing the door behind him. Winfred tucked the papers into his vest, turned and saw his beloved sitting with her eyes closed as if she was struggling to prevent from crying.

"Dearest?" he said reaching for her hands to grasp them. "Tell me honestly, and I will be honest with you as well."

He watched as her eyes flew open with seething emotions. "How could you?" she finally hissed to him. trying not to burst into tears again.

Winfred shook his head once, not quite knowing what she was going on about. She saw his confusion and dropped her voice down, her jaw tight. "A goat man came this evening to the house, and said that you were the responsible party for the particular package, and that you would see to the care of it. Imagine my surprise when I opened the bundle to discover a wee lad fast asleep!"

"A what?" Winfred gasped. "Dearest- I have never strayed from you in all the years we have known each other!"

Winfred watched as her face shifted in emotions. "Where is the wee lad?" he asked at last. She glanced down, and for the first time he saw a large carpet bag. Moving to the floor, he lifted the blanket up and reviled a small infant that was fast asleep. Something - a smell - caught his attention. Winfred reached out and traced the slightly tipped ear of the sleeping child then

noted something in the carpet bag next to the child. Glancing up, still on his knees before her he took her hand in his.

"Dearest… I can tell you this: I know of this child's family. I know that if the child is here, the parents are no longer of this earth, and the remainder of this child's family have entrusted his

care, with me, with us, if you chose to still be my wife, to keep him safe. I can tell you no more than that. I will only ask, if you chose, not to, that you do not tell anyone what I have just said

least they come after the wee child to kill him as well."

"I would ask who, if they would not stop at harming an infant, would not stop at hurting you or me or our family… if then should we take him in for that risk?"

Casting a glance down to the infant, Winfred sighed. "Dearest- those who have done this, have need of no reason. I would understand your desires if you chose not."

He felt her hand against the side of his ear as she boxed it. "Well I wouldn't!" she snapped at last. "What type of a wife would I be if I wasn't loyal to my husband, and help him with that which he was entrusted to? We will tell all that we are his Godparents, and that we are taking him in. Those who have seen my tears will know they are of grieving from the loss, and understand, and not question later where he came from. We will marry next month, as we have planned, and until then, he will be with me, and you will be responsible for both of us."

Laying a hand on her arm as she reached down for the basket Winfred stopped her. "Dearest, some day those who left him with us may return for him…"

He watched her nod slowly. "That thought had come to me as well. It is not today, nor likely to be tomorrow. You must teach him what he needs to know then, about doing what is right, and fair, as any proper father would."

Taylor watched the agent's Adam's apple bob under the sword tip. "You're making a mistake, we aren't the bad guys here… you don't know the whole story… " The agent saw the irritation on Taylor's face and stopped speaking.

"Down on your face lad, and make it quick," she said, twitching an eyebrow. In a moment he found that she had discovered the three revolvers he carried, his pepper spray and his double latch handcuffs that she neatly tucked between the water pipe to secure him.

"Your making a mistake!" he repeated.

"Excuse me? Your coming after innocent children and citizens with guns, spying on children, and breaking into houses has made me disinclined to conceder any thing you may say would have the

slightest shred of truth in it."

"Cowzy tweet and sowzy tweet and libble sharksy doisters Mairzy doats and dozy doats and liddle lamzy divey A kiddley divey too, wouldn't you?" he finaly gasped.

Taylor gave him a blank look as if he had taken leave of his senses. She gave a dismissive shake of her head then frowning, went to the laundry basket and placed a pillow sham over his head. It was thick enough that he wouldn't be able to see the coming and goings of the children.

"Wait!" he gasped again. Taylor didn't answer him. She was waving the children out of the hidden space and leading them upstairs. "Where now?" asked Shawna. Taylor drew in a breath.

"Where it all began…" she said softly.

Jan followed them down the hill to the shop. She glanced at the police tape that hung in the bushes, and the bits of odd wood that had been brought up from the lower levels. It was safe. There were no steps to the basements of course, but, it was the one place where it was doubtful they would follow. Taylor's hand shook as she placed the kettle on for tea and opened the tin of travelers biscuits to pass out to the children and Jan.

"What did he mean, by that?" Gretchen finally asked.

"by what?" Taylor answered cautiously.

"Cowzy tweet and sowzy tweet and libble sharksy doisters Mairzy doats and dozy doats and liddle lamzy divey A kiddley divey too, wouldn't you?" Gretchen repeated.

"I haven't the foggiest notion." She shrugged. Taylor watched Jan blink several times.

"That's from the 1940s – they were passwords and counter signs. They sound like nonsense, but they are words strung together: 'Mares eat oats and does eat oats and little lambs eat ivy. Wouldn't you? Cows eat wheat and sows eat wheat and little sharks eat oysters.'"

"Like a children's nursery rhyme," Taylor frowned.

Jan nodded several times. "It was. And it was a very popular song for a while even though the

words sounded like nonsense. It had people talking for the longest time because they were puzzled by the words of, "Little lambs eat ivy, A kid will eat ivy too- wouldn't you?- Ivy is a deadly poison to animals as well as people. Why would the song be promoting it?" inquired Jan with a note tinged with curiosity in her voice.

"Why indeed," answered Taylor abruptly as she guided Margarita to the upstairs room with Shauna for their afternoon naps. Shauna nestled in with her Margarita in the same bed. Taylor's voice was low and cautious as she whispered to Shauna, "I don't know where safe is anymore, dearest. If something should happen downstairs… you take Margarita, and you find the safest place that you can think of and stay there until Aunt Jessica comes, or Dr. Seth, all right?" Shauna nodded. Taylor went to the side window where the fire escape was and lifted the window up slightly- high enough that the children could slip out unnoticed. " Don't open the lock for anyone except family, all right?" she said, going to the door and turning the knob so that it would lock on her exit. It would give the children time, should it come to the worst. At the top of the steps Taylor felt a dizzy rush. Her whole being knew that there was something very wrong- wrong with what was going on with the older children, with Willy, and everyone she knew- the danger was palatable. She couldn't explain in rational terms what she was feeling, though, she knew if she went to Seth, he would listen to her- but it would only place him in danger as well.

'When was the moment in my life that changed everything? When did it happen, that I lost control of what I was, and became what I am today? It began here, not with my awakening to Willy's hand on my chest, but the moment that I entered into this place and grasped the sword. It cut into me- cut into my life and changed me forever…'

Using the chalk to make a continuous line on the right hand side of the wall the group ventured forward. The sound of the water faded as they went into a different chamber area. Tommy shook his head and stopped them by stopping himself and saying, "No No No… Air bad."

Patty sniffed the air. "He's right, it smells - like an old box. We could follow the sound of the water. It has to go out somewhere… ? Maybe along the cliff side or something."

Ian shook his head. "Na, what if when the water coming down was running into dead ends, that would be filling up the caves- tha's why the sound is changing so much."

Turning about they followed the chalk back and realized they were going up hill in their steps, not a lot, but enough that it was noticeable. By the time they got back to the place where the cave in happened, they noticed something- the air quality was much better there than it had been. Tipper saw Ian look puzzled for a moment before placing his finger in his mouth to wet it and hold it up in the air.

"There is air coming in from some where," he said, scrambling up from where he sat. For a moment he thought, then he grinned.

"I've thought like the pirate might. What if he wanted to get at the treasure but not share it with those who came with him? He'd make sure that those who were with him would be down, when he pulled the chain, and the roof would go down on them, but he'd leave a way out, wouldn't he? Someway to get the gold out with out lugging it back through the caves where he might get lost. He wouldn't want to bury the gold where he couldn't reach it either if someone would happen to pull the chain."

Tipper held up her hand. "Natch- the pirates made sure that if their gold was found, no one would get out alive if things were triggered."

"Then how do you explain the fresh air coming out?"

In the dim light they saw Tipper shrug. "I can't. I also don't want to have to explain to your family how you got squished if the rest of the roof comes down on you. We have air, they know we are down here, or they will find it out soon enough, they can get us out the old fashioned way."

"There won't be enough time Dr. Tipper," Patty said softly. "We don't have the time to wait this out. We have been keeping moving up til now. Caves are cold- and we are limited in the water we have. Even if we all are together, it will be too cold for us to stay alive in. "

A low moan came from Molly, a preemptive wail that would have been a shriek had Ian not given her a sound shake by her shoulders. "Nae time for that, woman. Think sense with the brain that you have an maybe we can get out of here faster."

For a moment it looked as if Molly would throw a tantrum as she rolled her eyes upward. There was a pause in her reaction, her mouth opened with surprise as her head turned about. "Dr Tipper, you said the caves branch off everywhere- what if they branched upward as well?" she asked pointing directly above them to the shelf where the gold was.

"We can't be sure that the area up there isn't booby trapped, dear." Tipper said softly, regarding Tommy as he paced in the small chamber. She wasn't sure of what his medical condition was beyond he seemed to be wrapped up in himself with brief periods of time that he surfaced for conversation with them. She wasn't a person doctor. She had informed Taylor many times of that over the years when she'd get a call regarding cuts and ills. Seth was used to getting a brief report from her though if things were done. The term autism floated into her thoughts. The other thing that she knew was that there was no way that they could dig through the rubble with out bringing down the rest of the wall. Something else floated in her thoughts as well. If Tommy had been living in this cave for any length of time, he would know all of the passage ways. The whole time that they had been in his company he had been very passive in his responses. He had done exactly what they had asked and only spoken up when he knew something was wrong.

"Tommy?" she asked softly. "Do you know of another way out of here? Can you show us that way?" For a moment she saw him stop pacing, and regard her. There was something familiar about the way that he stood, the way that he angled his head.

"Too dangerous. Too cold to do it," he said at last.

"What is?" she asked carefully.

"Way out, through the ocean cave. Go down down down. If tide is low, walk out and go along the shore, but the tide is up you swim. Too cold to do it though. Too cold, too dangerous. Waves take little ones away. Can't go that way. Not safe at all."

"But the air that is coming in, is fresh, and from above, not from below…" said Patty curiously. " Do you know the way out from above?"

Tommy stopped pacing and sat down on a rock hugging his knees. For the longest time he didn't say anything, and Tipper thought he had fallen asleep or forgotten. When he did speak, it was soft, and scared. "We can't go that way," he said at last. "We can't get past the Asarlaí… others did try, and the Asarlaí kept their bones to warn…"

Tipper heard Ian make a small moan in his throat as he moved closer to his sister. She had never heard that particular sound from him- almost a choked strangled moan. When he reached her, he gathered her into his arms and just held her. A gasp came from Patty followed by a quiver in her throat. In the dim light Tipper saw Molly with her hands on her hips ready to tease them about being cry babies. She didn't though. Something on Franks face told her something was very wrong.

Then Tipper felt it. It was an absolute grief that filled her up and threatened to explode from her. She knew she had to be strong, she couldn't be reduced to tears, not now, not when the children's lives were in danger. She searched inside herself for the answer and could only come up with the lingering knowledge something very wrong had happened to some one she knew- someone they all knew ...

Willie carefully washed his hands in the cool water of the fountain and moved to where his supper had been laid out. He would have heard if Winfred had been caught with the letter. It was no surprise that there had been an uneasy silence in the land for the last eight hours. Dawn was coming and there was a lot to do before it was over. Weary, he sat at the make shift table and regarded the cheese and bread before him. It would have to do. He smelt the goats before he heard the footfall behind him. Glancing over his shoulder he raised an eyebrow upward at the familiar figure.

"You're a long way from where you should be," Willie said simply. For a moment Toot didn't say anything. Willie watched him sigh, his shoulders slump slightly as he walked forward.

"Ye never did have the touch inside, I blame that on m' self, na teaching you how to listen to your heart. The men tha' you ha been waging against came to the village and set fire to Mither's place, an' Gram's. I was watching the wee lad tha' night - he was safe enough, an' I was able to get them out an to the hospital, but they hang on a thread. I dinna know when it will be cut. There isn't anything more in all my time learning that can be done for them. Your Gram has no face left, your sisters hands have been taken by flame, and Mither- it wrapped her body in flame taking what it touched. Even you could not heal what has befallen them. I've hidden the wee one in a safe place- he will ha a good home, even if it's with an English man."

"Da, we would ha taken him …" began Willie softly.

Toot shook his head. "It's best that it is this way. A new start for him, an in time, when he develops to a man, he can find his path, just as you did. The keys are there for him to follow now- your friend George saw to that. He is a lovely lad… looked up at me an just nodded, he knew. Our time is changing here. We canna spread as we once did, nor will they accept if we are a gathered as before. We know tha' what your doing is right, and noble and brave. There is no other path now though son. You've known it for a while, haven't you? It's why you came here. Making a target of yourself, your hoping to make them forget the children, but they haven't forgotten. They were searching the rubble for the baby until the priest that you liked told them that such flames would have taken the child to ash. It burned hot, and hard, it wasn't a pan on the stove that they said later, we know how her kitchen was - nothing would have burnt if it was even placed on the counter. Have you reached what you wanted from all of this?" When will it stop, son? Was na the teachings of your Gram enough that ye had to show the world how brilliant our kind is when they had forgotten us to myth? Did it ever happen to cross your mind there were reasons why we stayed in the simple towns or heeded the stories that were told to you when you were growing up?"

"I never felt accepted Da, for so long I struggled to find myself in the world. Then the killings started and I had a way to stop them. What else should I have done? Look away? Run away and hide as you did?"

"Aye. As you should ha' now. It's done and over," he said removing his coat and laying it on the table beside Willie's plate.

Winfred would remember waking to the urgent knocking upon his door, telling him that the shanty village had been set ablaze and that they needed his help to contain the crowds. Slipping on his uniform and his shoes Winfred made his way to the street and searched the skies for the tell tale glow of the fires judging how fast that it could move and how it could jump from roof to roof in a matter of moments. He knew his bride to be and the baby were safe across the river, but he also knew that there were many poor families who's homes were in the direct line of the fires path. Something had changed in the town- in the past, the neighbors would have been polite, and allowed the fire brigade to deal with matters, but this time everyone was outdoing what it took to bring the flames under control, helping to rescue those who were trapped inside the shanty town and bring them to safety. It was several hours later when he was covered in soot and grime and the shanty town was just smoldering that he saw a familiar blue coat beneath a collapsed wall.

Gasping he began to dig through the rubble, unmindful of the heat, to search for life beneath it all. Others came to help him dig- it was by chance that he saw the bullet hole from the back of the head that exited from the front of the face- the flame had taken away his hair, and charred most of the exposed flesh. Winfred sank to his knees and began to sob. He didn't remember being lead away from it all, or being taken to a way place by one of the shanty town people that smelled like a goat to be given water and bread to gather his strength. He only became aware when the news flash came on the telly. Wordlessly he watched as the head of Scotland Yard announced his retirement, on the eve of the signing of the treaty between the two factions who had been fighting for as long as the earth had turned. A mug of tea was slid across the coffee table to him. Winfred glanced up and saw a very sooty chief inspector standing before him. He tried to stand, but his legs failed him. George guided him back down and took the seat beside him.

"The bloody cowards shot him from behind and set fire to cover what they ha done," he said to George thickly.

George drew in a sharp breath. "It was him? Are you sure?"

He watched the young officer nod. "As sure as I know who I am right now that all that was good and pure in the world has been covered with ash. When will this madness end?"

Nodding to the tv screen George sighed. "I believe the ending of it has already begun," he said simply. For a moment Winfred watched as the head of Scotland Yard gave his farewell address. It took an instant to make the connection to the papers that he had delivered to what was going on. Shooting a glance at George the young man wrapped his arms about his thin frame. "If we canna believe who was to protect us…" he murmured.

"If you have a garden, and a particular plant seems to be getting out of hand, what would you do?" George asked simply. It took a moment for Winfred to stop gaping as if George had taken leave of his senses. "Well, a proper gardener would trim it back, and if the plant was overwhelming the garden, pull it up completely." George let out a slow breath before pulling out a silver ring that had ivy on it. He handed it to Winfred. "Ivy will grow anywhere, but nothing else can grow with the ivy, it's a deadly poison to some- yet, some can eat it with no ill effects. There is only one plant that has been known to grow with the ivy, and that, is clover, which also can grow unchecked in a garden, the ivy keeps the clover back, and the clover keeps the ivy from taking over the garden. A proper gardener would re plant the ivy to where it is needed as a ground cover and protector of the soil. For while it can take over the garden, the leaves of the plant shade the smallest of plants, and keep the water from leaving the soil, it cools the ground, so that the afternoon sun doesn't wilt the most delicate of flowers. Years ago, Willie's people were seen, much like the ivy, something to be controlled and ripped out to manage.

For centuries they were hunted and murdered, sadly, it continues. I've learned only an hour ago that his mother, his grand mother, and his sister and child perished from a deliberate fire set in their home."

"So, that's it then, they are all gone? The *gardeners* have won?" asked Winfred with a certain chill in his voice.

George let out a soft noise. "There is always the clover that grows within the same garden." For the longest time he regarded Winfred before standing up and striding out side. The lad would have more than enough to deal with in the next few months, let alone getting him involved with everything on the streets.

Tipper let out a sigh as she leaned against the wall. It had taken a while to comfort the children, and she knew that as time passed, the hope of being able to find their way out diminished. She couldn't remember the time the tides were- and it was clear that the roof that had come down had blocked the chamber they were in for the length of the tunnel, There would be no hope of the tunnel being dug out in time. Tommy had refused to take them to the chimney exit, saying it was too dangerous. He went on to mumble something about when the little sprite came, that she would show him different paths about the cave- but he didn't dare travel them on his own.

It took a while for Tipper to realize that the little sprite he spoke of was Margarita, and she marveled at the distance the child had traveled. – unless, there had been another way that she had gone. She didn't think that the child could have made it all the way on the roads with out being seen. Chewing on her bottom lip Tipper remembered that there had been old tunnels that were used when the guns were being moved from the school to the sea to be dumped. She wondered if the same tunnel structure extended beyond the town. It would make a lot of sense. The coral was actually easy to carve through if you had a proper tool. The small cove here was deep enough for ships to dock, it was possible that it had been used as a smuggler's route. Blocking themselves in wouldn't have made sense though – not with how they had made the rocks fall. Why block the

treasure in- unless it was a stop gap measure to block those who were intent on chasing you. That would explain the exit to the sea- and the trap laid in the chimney that Tommy had described.

"Let me see that map again, Molly," said Tipper softly. She could see Molly begin to look in her bag when the soft crunch of stone made all of them look up into the darkness. A chill came over Tipper as a second crunch was followed by the unmistakable click of tumblers of a revolver. The man that she had seen by her car was standing in one of the tunnel doorways to their chamber holding a police special. She could see him eyeing the rocks that were between them and

freedom.

"Well, isn't this just perfect… saves a lot of leg work, and bullets."

"You don't have enough to kill all of us, do you?" said Patty with a cold certainty in her voice.

The man shrugged. "Just need one or two, really. The roof is pretty unstable right above you, and a shot would make it come down on you. If your not killed outright by the rocks, then, well, lack of air will do wonders for the health as well. In a way, I have you to thank for making this easy. Your trail lead to that fountain of youth, and it was an easy passage down, then I just followed the sound of your voices here. You may as well accept it, you will be joining your family soon. Oh. That's right, You've been here all day, haven't you? You don't know that a fire burned up your family's home and that your uncle is dead too, now, do you? Or did you know- did you feel them

die?"

Ian leaned forward and felt some hard round cold objects under his hand. Closing his fist around them he sighed as he stood, knowing that he would draw the interest of the man upon him. "Well, yes, you could be telling the truth about your kind murdering our family. An' you could be telling the same truth about killing us. If you did bring down the roof though, you would be making a sore mistake… " Ian flipped something up in the air. It shimmered as it tumbled in the dim flashlight, but it was unmistakable.

"There is more of it up there. If you bring the roof down on us, it gets buried. Why do the dirty work when you can get so much more? There are chains, and ways of binding a man up there- you know yourself, we aren't going anywhere – we don't know the way out…"

Glancing upward, the man saw the glint of the golden chain in the beam of the flashlight Frank directed upwards. The man shrugged. "Don't need it. There is more further down- I can come and go as I please and gather what I want any time." He raised his gun to point at the roof of the cave just above them.

"Give my regards to your uncle for me - we go way back. Tell him the Fordham family says hello. You seem surprised? We can hide our children just the same as you do."

A soft click of a gun pressed into his spine made him freeze.

"Nice of you to have some common sense," said Mort into his ear.

It was a short time later that they were blinking in sunlight and wrapped with blankets with cups of hot cocoa to warm them. Tipper was sitting on a rock shivering as she watched her Honda be loaded upon a flat bed. Mort had assured her that the blood could be cleaned up and the windshield replaced, but they needed it for evidence and the trial may take a while on the dockets. Tommy wandered over to her and sat down next to her.

"I suppose you could use it for a tourniquet," he said at last.

"Use what?" she said, puzzled.

"An equine rectal sleeve. You said you would use one on me if I ... if I did something to hurt Taylor."

Tippers mouth formed an O of surprise as she studied his face. It had changed with the injury, and the healing that followed. She watched the struggle on his face as he formed his words about his thoughts.

"Did he make her happy?" he asked softly.

Tipper nodded, her throat closing on any answer. If what the guy had said was true, Willy and all his family were gone. She looked around, and found Ian sitting next to Patty, their faces masked with unnatural concern for one so young. Taylor would care for them, and keep them together. Jessica could, or Emma - both were immediate kin to them. Her heart gave a pang, knowing that their lives were changed forever once again.

Jan watched as Taylor fussed about the kitchen looking for something to eat. Finally she said carefully over her cup of tea, "Until this is all settled, I think it best that the children be removed from your care and placed into protective services." She saw Taylor reach in a cupboard and extract a tin that held cookies in it and carry it over to where the other two ladies sat.

"Why would you think that's best?" Taylor replied, curious.

"I saw the scars on Ian's back, and Patty's. I'm surprised that the school social services hasn't removed them from your home already," Jan blurted.

She saw Taylor bite a cookie and raise an eyebrow. "Typical new york cop. Arrest first and ask questions later," she said with a knowing glance over in the direction of the steps. "If you have taken the time to learn about them you would find the elementary school they were in less than a year ago had bombs that went off and ripped through the stones as if it was butter. Prior to that, the factory where his parents worked was taken down to its foundation by the same people."

"Well, there area always a few factions that try to rule the world," Jan shrugged.

Jan saw Taylor raise her eyebrow. "Don't believe everything you read in the papers, Jan," she said dryly.

It was a short drive for Mort to drop off Tipper. She hesitated when she saw her cats outside. "Mort, someone has been in there, and it's not been Margarita."

"Right, well, you weren't there, so that means they would have gone to Taylor's home." Somehow they weren't surprised to find Taylor's and Jessica's doors kicked open. Mort was about to get back in the cruiser when he heard plaintive calls for help coming out of the basement. Mort glanced down at the agent then just shook his head and closed the door. There was enough to deal with let alone finding a place that would be safe to lock him up.

"The shop," said Tipper and Mort together. It was a swift ride down the hill to pull into the lot beside the shop. Tipper took the steps two at a time and called out before she burst through the door. She found Taylor sitting on the sofa, drinking tea with Gretchen and Jan, her face very troubled. Biting her lip, Tipper slowed her pace across the floor as Taylor stood up along with Gretchen.

"The children?" gasped Gretchen.

"Molly is fine, she's with Harrison at the hospital, she's just getting a checkup. The others are safe as well," she said, looking directly at Taylor. "Apparently, someone decided to do a bit of

weeding…but, from what I've heard on the news on the way here, it's over," Tipper finished. She watched Jan blink several times before asking.

"Who won?" Jan felt all eyes upon her.

"There isn't any winner's in this Janice," Mort said softly. "People have lost their lives - good people that the world needed because of greed. The lights of the world are diminished greatly." Mort strode over to Taylor and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Taylor, on the way here, I heard from Inspector Sutherland. There was a riot, and a fire, and they found bodies in the rubble shot in the back of the head and they didn't stop there- they torched the Roosting Hen. No one is left."

Jan blinked a few times. "Well. Perhaps it will end the nonsense. Sometimes shock of such events is enough to mobilize the public for reforms. Those shanty towns are tinderboxes." She saw Taylor ball up her fist and pull her arms into her body hugging herself. Mort gathered her in his arms and held her as she shivered .

"Shut up Jan, you don't have a clue about what your saying!" said Gretchen, not kindly.

"I beg your pardon? It's about time the scum of the streets were cleaned up. You were just discussing how the factions blew up the school were the children went to- and you're upset now that a few village idiots are gone? And you, Mort- when were you ever a bleeding heart for the riffraff? Good riddance!"

Mort passed Taylor off to Tipper and turned to Jan, taking her by the arm and escorting her into the kitchen area. As gently as she could, Tipper said softly, " We felt the passing… is there is anything we can do?"

She felt Taylor pull herself together. She had thought such news would be the end of Taylor, but it seemed to give her strength. "Where are the children?" she whispered.

"With Seth, and someone else who will keep them safe."

"Go upstairs, and knock on the door that is closed. Tell Margarita and Shauna to take you to Seth's the way that is safest, and stay there until the way is clear." Tipper saw determination in Taylor's eyes, and knew it wasn't over yet. Giving a nod she hurried up the steps as quickly as she could , and as quietly.

Taylor turned to Gretchen. "You'd best go to your brother and niece."

"But…" She saw Taylor nod and wave her hand to go. She nodded and then went out the side door to where her car was parked in the public lot.

Mort brought Jan back into the room and found that the others were gone and Taylor sitting on the sofa sipping tea.

"I had to wonder how you knew that they were in a shanty town, Jan, and why you keep referring to the factions, and how you knew the passkeys he was talking about."

Pulling her self up a bit Jan shook her head. "Coming from an impoverished world, I don't suppose you would have had the benefits of education, as I have. That's where the riots are all the time. "

"Oh, well, Queen 101 was full, I skipped that in favor of political history. You're looking at things from a different perspective than what is the truth right now."

"That's rich, coming from you- and who you're married to. If he wasn't doing something wrong, they wouldn't have been after him," Jan said in a tight voice that did nothing to mask her irritation.

Mort sucked in his breath. "Since when is saving lives something wrong to do Jan? You don't even know the man, and I'm hearing a lot of anger in your voice against him."

"Your wrong, Mort. She does know of him. From the time that you contacted her, she was briefed about what was going on, and told to come up here to lead the others to him. She has been slipping up on things all day, as well as trying to find a way to use the courts to take the children away…"

Mort glanced at Jan, then back to Taylor. "But the attempt on her life ... "

He saw the softening look on Taylor's face as she let out a long sigh. "I believe if you look into her chauffeur's family tree you will find that he is loyal to … the other… family. He had to have known her plans to come up here to lead the others to us."

Glancing back at Jan, he waited for her to deny it. He saw Jan's face harden, her jaw set. "You can't prove anything," she said at last. "And even if you think you did have proof, by the time it would get to court, the hour will have passed and yours will have long turned to dust. You have no proof, no connection in anything that you think may have been. In the end, we will have won. The line has been ended."

Mort raised an eyebrow. Had he not been involved in recovering and then allowing the disposal of the weapons; had he not seen the proof of what Willie had found and the connections, he would have believed Jan. He shook his head.

"You're right in one respect, Jan, I suppose with the amount of running and hiding you all have done, you missed the news. The people who were pulling the strings in all of this are no longer in a position of power, it's been found out, and its been all over the news. The factions that you have been speaking of have signed treaties, and there have been a whole lot of resignations all across the board. So you see, even in death, he and his have managed to win the war after all. I just don't get how you gave up on fighting the good fight after everything you have been through." Mort reached behind and unclipped his hand cuffs. He watched Jan take a step back.

"You have nothing to hold me on…"

Mort turned her around and placed the cuffs on her. "Maybe I don't have any thing that your family lawyers won't be able to get you out on bail so you can run away from, but, the photo of

you picked up by AP of you being arrested will pretty much end your political dreams. Janice Patterson, I'm arresting you for conspiracy, and the murder of Dr. William McGill. You have the right to remain silent…"

"I know my rights!" she snapped as he pushed her out the door to the back seat of his car.

Mort paused and looked at Taylor who stood, calm, her skin so very pale. "Taylor… I .." he began.

She shook her head. "I will be all right, Mort - go lock her up."

Going back into the shop she closed and locked the doors. A single tear came down her cheek as she moved through the shop touching things. She knew that Willie had a provision in his will to give the building to Tipper. She would have to have his things packed up, of course. She sat down on the worn sofa and hugged her belly. She knew her time with him would be short, she just didn't know that he would go before her. She would have to see to the children, to keep them

together, and provide for them. She hadn't questioned why Gabe had said he would be there to change many nappies; now she knew. She didn't know where he was now though, when she needed him the most.

`I would follow him in death, if not for the children…' she thought, `so great is the pain in my heart.' Sighing, she gathered the sword and took it with her on the long walk to Seth's place. The

children came about her, hugging her as she made her way into the room. Tipper came over to her, leading Tommy by the hand.

"Tommy, this is Mrs. McGill, do you remember her?" For the longest time he gazed at her, blinking, Taylor looked into his eyes- seeing something ... His face was ravaged by the scars, his hair small tuffs on a near bald scalp- yet…

And then he spoke: "Hello, sweetheart."

It was if a dam had burst- Taylor began to cry as he drew her into his arms holding her close to him. She cried for his pain, for the loss of the time they had together, she cried for all of the family that had been taken in the cruel nonsensical war.

Tipper stepped back as she brushed the tears from her eyes. She felt Seth guide her back to his office and close the door, allowing Taylor to have the moment in privacy.

"I know what your thinking, a second happy ever after for the two of them, but, its not going to happen Angela. He doesn't, have that much time left. His liver, and pancreas are going on him, he has a few weeks at best."

"How could all of this happen Seth, how could he not know who he was? How did he get here?"

"Several things happened. They only moved him to Portland until he was well enough to be moved back to LA for further treatment. Sondra was to care for him, but developed a staff infection that's kept her in isolation for a very long time. While he was in the hospice care,

they called him Mr. Thomas, which in his head he made into Tommy. They had him under sedation to heal, and once that was done, it was lifted, leaving him in a state of becoming aware of where he was, and the desire to find Taylor to protect her. It wasn't really hard for him to dress and just walk out with the rest of the visitors, it happens all the time. In his journey he was bitten by a tick, and it carried Lyme disease that it transferred to him. That went untreated, and after a while, began to affect his internal organs. He knew enough, when he was not feeling well, to come to a doctor. I recognized him from his blood work - he's got a rather rare type, and I've been in contact with the hospice, they felt that he had signed himself out and they don't want him back if he's going to wander away."

Monday morning Frank was surprised that the bus did not stop to pick up Ian and Patty. He knew Molly had probably slept in and her aunt would bring her to home room later. As it pulled by the house, Frank thought it looked a bit empty. It was with a sigh of relief that he saw Ian and Patty already in the chairs of home room. He knew something wasn't quite right though when he saw their faces.

"We're moving," Ian said softly. "Back with her grandfather in his dusty old place. Though Aunt Taylor said that you can come visit for the summer, an we still have the computer to chat with each other every night, as before."

"Moving? Why?" blurted Frank.

"Aunt Taylor's na able to deal with much of anything right now. An Mr. Thomas is going to stay a bit with us, til his end time. There isn't enough room for us all in the other house. She's lending it to Dr. Seth to use as a place for people who have family who is ill to have a place to stay that's like home. The gardens all been taken up, as have the spot where Sydney rested. She has movers taking things from the shop an as soon as that's all packed away, its being put into Dr. Tipper's name to do what she will with it. Aunt Taylor is with the principal now. We won't be staying very long, an we asked if we could say our goodbyes to the class before we go this evening to our new home."

Molly flounced into the room and sat down, her face pouting. "They won't let us go down into the caves for the rest of the treasure. They said its too dangerous. We spent all that time and we don't have anything to show for it Aunt Gretchen said that it would probably cost more to dig it up than what's in there, but Daddy said, we at least have claimed it and if there was a way, we could keep it."

"We have the map. And we did get out of their safely, that's something," said Frank. Folding her arms across her chest she pushed out her lower lip. Frank sighed. Nothing with Molly was ever easy.

The rest of the class filed in, and took their seats waiting for their teacher to come in and start things. They could see her at the door, speaking to someone, and when the teacher did come in they could see she had the sparkle of tears in her eyes. Taylor was in the door frame, and nodded to the teacher, who cleared her throat and nodded to Ian and Patty, who stood up.

Ian took Patty's hand as she began, "We know, we have only been with you a short while and we have made friends with all of you, its been grand… we wish it could have been longer, but, we will be moving away to be with our aunt. We will miss you all."

The teacher signaled for the kids to stand up, and to come forward to say their goodbyes. When it came to Molly's turn she hugged Patty, and then after hugging Ian, she gave him a long kiss on his lips. There was a chorus of "Ohhhhhh Kissy Kissy," from Patty and Frank and the others giggled. Ian gave a gulp as they parted then said, "I did say I had a way with the lass's." He caught Molly's hand before she pulled away and pulled her back. "Wait, I have to ask you something," he said pressing something hard into her hand. "Would you marry me when we are older?" he asked into her ear breathlessly.

With out opening her hand, she nodded. "Yes, when we are older," she said, giving him a hug. Molly could feel he had placed two things in her hand, one she knew was a coin, the other, by the press on her palm, she knew it was a ring of some sort.

Dinner was at Jessica's that evening. Ian helped Frank with the dishes and as they washed and dried them, Frank said softly to Ian, "It's not fair- all of this."

Ian shook his head. "It never is. Look, Frank, keep an eye on Molly for me, would you? An', if something, should happen to me, you could marry her to keep her safe, would you do that?" Ian saw the look on Frank's face. "Look, I know you have your heart set on marrying Angela, but,

there is another man out there for her, an its best she marry him. If I do make it to be old enough to marry, you can marry Patty, she's far enough away of a cousin it wouldn't matter."

Raising his eyebrows, all that Frank could do was nod.

Saying good by was hard on all of them. For the longest time Tipper hugged the children until she was told, they would be back in the summer perhaps, or she could visit anytime when she wanted to, It was also pointed out that she would be needed to be a Godmother for the children, and she would need to learn how to change diapers. They would be able to keep in touch with the internet too – once Mort figured out how to install firewalls to preserve the integrity of the connection.

Frank stood next to Tipper as they drove away, his hand curled in hers. He wanted to run to his room and cry, but, something made him stay there- it was the tear that traced down her cheek as she leaned towards the glass to hide her sorrow. "I don't think we will see them again. Not for a while," she said softly.

"They are going into hiding- aren't they?'

Tipper nodded. "At least for now they are."

_Epilogue_

The burst of blossoms on the cherry trees filled the air with a tender sweetness as Taylor moved through the sculptured gardens pressing her hand to her hip as she walked. Anthony had made it

through the new year, surprising the doctors and nurses who cared for him. She had received word that the bodies had been taken up to the white rocks to be buried, and that the path there, planted over so that they could be laid to rest at last. A sharp pain stole her breath away. She clung to the nearest tree and moaned. She felt soft hands touch her back taking the pain away. Looking back over her shoulder she saw it was Gabe. He had come when it was time for Anthony, and had stayed. She ha, asked him about Willie, and was informed that he didn't know. He had been with the rest of the family at the time and wasn't able to find anything out. It was

possible, he continued, that the shadows had taken Willie, though Toot had found his way in the end and was with the family.

Gabe lead her up to the place that had been prepared and settled her in. "Just close your eyes and breath as you've been taught," he said gently, "The doctors will be up here soon. Twin boys, and a wee lass."

Taylor nodded, closing her eyes to will back the tears. She had wanted this all differently - this wasn't what she had wanted at all. A catch of a sob issued from her and she felt some one pick up her hand as a warm set of lips pressed against her fore head. Her eyes snapped open and she gazed into deep blue eyes.

"Hello, Wife."

End, part Two


	3. Chapter 3

The Gathering, Part Three: Lá Fhéile Eoin

_-by Kath_

"Bend over," Seth said with a sigh. A groan followed by a string of words Seth had only heard on the docks when fights over traps had broken out issued from his patent. His fingers traced over the thin spine. Telling people that they were underweight for what they did didn't go over well, especially with Tipper Henderson. If it hadn't been for Mort, he would have never know how bad her condition was. Sighing again he went to his cupboard and unlocked it. He knew Mort was still in the waiting room.

"I need you to hang onto the side of the bed Tipper. I know it hurts, I'm going to inject some cortisone into you, and you should have some relief from the pain shortly."

Since Taylor and the children had left Cabot Cove, Tipper had found herself busy with work, the upcoming winter, the bitter snows, Jan's trial and a wave of deaths of local pets due to some idiot trying to poison off the raccoons before they went into their winter holes to hibernate. It was with the spring thaws that Tipper had faced that she needed to do something with the large store front that Willie had left her. Oddly, Tipper had insisted that she would do all the work herself on her days off. There hadn't been much to clean - not much had been left in the shop after the flood, and everything else had been removed when Taylor had moved away. But there were still things

that needed to be cleaned after the winter, and a new set of steps to be put in to replace the rope ladder down into the basement. Tipper had taken some basic woodworking classes, she knew how to use a hammer and saw, and was determined to do the steps herself. She would have done fine, except she had decided to unload all the lumber herself into the shop in a single day. She had been on her way back out to the rented truck when she'd slipped and slid down the three steps to the sidewalk. Nothing broken, but when she went to stand up, she ended on the ground face forward, screaming in agony. Harrison had heard her at the shop, and Mort had been there getting his morning coffee and Danish.

Mort had been the first there, allowing Harrison to call for the ambulance. Some pain killers had been dispensed to stop her screams, and later she could manage to stand - for a few seconds. Long enough for the needle to slip into the right place and deliver blissful relief. He saw her legs buckle and nodded to the orderly who gently lifted Tipper up and placed her back on the gurney on her side. An eyebrow of the orderly flickered upward at the next string of words, but wisely he said nothing.

"I'll start the paperwork, you're staying here tonight for observation."

"Natch," she grumbled. "I have my cats to feed, and I have to get the shop locked up, and I've rented power tools that can't walk away. "

"Mort can do that. You had him properly scared, young lady…" Seth saw her eyes grow heavy as the other medication settled into her system. Brushing back a wisp of hair from her cheek Seth pulled a blanket over her. Maybe while she was in the hospital he would have an increased calorie diet given to he r- a pound or so would help her metabolize the medication she would be on and prevent ulcers. Closing his bag, he nodded to the orderly to move Tipper to the room when it was ready.

Opening the door he saw Mort pacing like an expectant father, and Jessica looking quite pale. They had been about to go to the movies when the call had come in, and Jessica had insisted on coming. Tipper was family. Mort glanced up. His eyes showed he had been crying – or close. It had to have been hard for him to have been there - he had informed the ambulance paramedics that she hadn't stopped screaming. There had to be more that he hadn't told Seth - something that upset him greatly.

"May I see her?" he asked softly.

Seth glanced back to the room. "Once she gets settled in, you can visit for a bit, but she's

pretty under right now. She was concerned about the shop, getting it locked up properly, and her cats need to be fed." Seth almost expected Mort to protest, his usual, "what do I look like, a delivery man?" Instead Mort nodded, then looked over as they wheeled Tipper out of the room down the hall. Seth prevented him from following her. "We need to talk first…" Seth said, escorting them into the small room that held Tippers x-rays. He placed his glasses on the bridge of his nose and flipped on the light switches. "When you bump your elbow and you feel the twinge, people call it your funny bone, though the pain you feel isn't funny. Tipper had the same, effect when she slid down the steps, it caught several of the spinal spurs, jarring them. If she would have stayed put, it may have been better, but she stood, and turned, and it pinched the disk

pads."

"That had to have been horrific, Seth," said Jessica, glancing over the x-rays.

Both men glanced at Jessica. There was something that Jessica was thinking, but the rest of what was to come was interrupted by a scream coming down the hall. Mort was the first out the door

following the sound. He found Tipper struggling against the restraints, her eyes wide.

"Hey, hey, take it easy, its okay! " he said as he gently pushed her back onto the gurney. Mort felt Tipper trembling beneath his hands.

"Don't let them take me!" she gasped through gritted teeth.

"They are just taking you to your room, Angela. Its okay," he said softly, trying to sooth her.

She shook her head as far as the neck brace would allow. "No, not them … _them,"_ she hissed before indicating to the right, along the wall. Mort didn't look, but allowed his peripheral vision to catch a glimpse at what she was talking about. For a brief moment he saw dark shadows and an icy mist coming from the corner before it melted away. He felt her relax under his hands.

"It's okay, they are gone," he murmured. Mort walked with the orderly as he continued to push the bed down the hall to the elevator.

Tipper heard the PING as the elevator was summoned. "No…. No.. No… Not a good idea. No, I don't want to go in there… No no no…"

The orderly shot a look at Mort to calm Tipper down. The pause was enough time to allow the door to open up. Mort held his hand up and prevented the orderly from pushing the gurney in. He was about to say, "See, everything is alright," but before the words were out of his mouth, there was an odd noise from the elevator and it began to ding signaling an error with the hydraulics. The door half closed as the elevator car dropped three feet. Mort had seen the flicker too in the corner as the orderly goggled, first at Tipper, then the elevator. "How did she know?" he gasped.

"When you have had an injury, your senses are heightened. She had to have heard the elevator noise," stated Mort in a matter-of-fact tone.

By the time Tipper was settled in her room she was calmer. Mort lingered beside her bed, not holding her hand, but sitting with his hand on the clean linen sheets. Jessica had stood up to take a walk down the hall and get some coffee leaving Mort a moment alone with Tipper.

"Ok, level with me. I've heard a lot of screams in my day, but what you were wailing out this morning made my blood run cold. I know that the pain in your back had to have been horrible, but there was something else in your screaming. Fear. So before I allow Doc and Mrs. F back into the store to lock up and to see that everything is okay, I want to know what _else_ is in there and what happened. Why would they be after you?"

"I don't know," she said, not being able to look Mort in the eye.

Shaking his head, Mort sighed. "That's a sure way to get them back here. You have to tell me, and that can help a lot to keep them away."

He saw her screw up her face for a moment then hiss, "Fine. I fell, and I got up, and I turned and they pulled me back down and they were going to drag me away because they said I had the smell of death's guilt on me."

"Death's guilt? Since when? Something isn't right here," he said, curious. He saw Tipper shake her head a fraction of an inch in the head brace.

"I haven't a clue what that could be. And if you hadn't seen them, they would have locked me up for being nuts."

"Angela, in all my years on the force, I've never heard of them speaking to the people they were planning on taking. They usually come, snag the soul and then they are off. The how-do-you-do just doesn't cut it with their crowd."

"I don't know!" she said, still not looking at him.

Mort's eyebrow raised up slightly as he regarded her. "You have a lousy poker face, Angela," he said simply.

She returned her gaze back to him. "Fine. Whatever I did, or didn't do, I didn't think at the time it would have been enough for them to try to suck my soul out of my living body. Satisfied?"

"Yes," he said at last. "I won't pretend to know how they think, or what they feel is important when other things aren't."

Seth entered the room and shooed Mort out. "I will stay with Tipper, Mort. Adele called and said that there are things you need to pick up for dinner, she left the list in your pocket this morning."

Mort felt torn. He sighed and then patted Tippers hand. "Maybe I can look around and find out the answer Tipper. Rest for now. I will be back later." Tipper nodded as Seth watched Mort tip his hat and stride out the door.

"If I didn't know better, I would say that he was smitten with you." Seth half expected a string of sputtered "Wahas?" from Tipper, but instead he didn't hear anything. He glanced down at her, and found her cheeks high with color.

"No. We are just friends Seth, and I know he cares about his friends. We are colleagues. If it was anyone else, he would do the same thing, even for you."

"Then why did I see that blush rise on your cheeks?"

"Gas. Same as why a baby smiles. Okay?"

Seth tilted his head and raised his left eyebrow. Tipper knew it as "the look" that Seth wore when he was trying to digest some fact that he found interesting.

"Very well, young lady…Do you want something for that ... gas?"

"No," she said simply.

Mort found himself at Tipper's door and sighed. Everyone knew where she kept the key to her home - third plant pot to the right marked 'Secret Key Holder HERE.' Idly he opened her mail box and plucked a few envelopes from the box before opening the door. He found the cats all at once at his ankles twirling about them trying to get his attention before he made it to the cupboards. Dispensing the food and fresh water Mort turned and noticed that Tipper had kicked her sneakers into a corner of the room off of the rug, and that they had sand on them. Her everyday windbreaker was hung on a peg and curiosity drew him to the pockets where he found odd sea shells and some stones that when he wet them were pretty. They had sand on them too ...

The sand caused Mort to frown. Most of the coast line was totally rocks, there really wasn't any area that had sand on it… well, one or two - the place where the willow tree was had a sandy beach put in by the local parks to draw people to camp. There were a few islands that had beaches… most being the white sand imported in by the resorts, but this sand was different, it was the dark red purple of the mollusk that was so popular on the side dishes of lobster - people

ate them just like the rest of the world ate French fries. The other thing that was telling was the specific rocks she had picked up - stones of pink marble. Though there was a quarry farther inland, chips of the marble were dumped into some parts of the outer north section to re-introduce calcium needed for some of the shell fish industry. There was only one section of beach that would be right for that. Sighing, he drew out his cell phone and informed Adele that he was going to be a bit late for what she needed. He had a lead to track down.

Tipper shifted the best she could in her bed. She wasn't too wild about the amount of time they said she would have to spend there, and the nurse had informed her that she was going to have to share the room with someone from the psych ward. They simply did not have the bed space that other hospitals had. She fought sleep, struggled against the warmth and the drugs that induced calm into her.

Several hours later Tipper woke with a start and tried to move her head to see what was making the soft noise to her left. It was a soft `scritch scritch' of something on cloth. By shifting her shoulders, Tipper was able to focus on the sound. It was a pen being moved over something on a frame. She could see an intricate pattern that had been made from the cloth that was hanging over the edge of the bed. The woman looked normal enough , a bit of a pale face with honey brown hair that framed green eyes. She was thin as well, the bandages about her wrists were thicker than she was.

"Its not what you think," the woman said softly as she continued to draw on the cloth.

"Pardon?" managed Tipper.

"Being," she said simply before setting the cloth and pen down as if that was enough to explain everything.

"Oh," was all that Tipper could say before the need to close her eyes overwhelmed her. She could hear the rattle of trays and the voices of people passing up and down the halls. If someone thought that they would be getting rest during their stay at the hospital, they were sadly mistaken.

It was several hours before she awakened to find a floral arrangement on her nightstand with small balloons wishing her to get well. The balloons were signed with hand drawn paw prints on

them, with a small card dangling tantalizingly out of her reach. She knew, however, that it had to be from someone who knew she was a vet.

From the corner of her eye, she saw her roommate had drifted off, a spread of cloth with intricate designs that were somehow familiar to Tipper - though she didn't know why. The tray rattles came closer before stopping at her door. Tipper felt her belly rumble. She hadn't realized how hungry she was until just then. Delightful smells came from the opening door as an orderly brought what she thought was the first of two covered trays. Placing the tray down upon the roommate's bedside table the orderly turned to push the cart to the next room.

Tipper mustered enough strength to say, "Hey, where is mine?"

The orderly stepped back into the room empty-handed. "Oh, I'm sorry Dr. Henderson, you're NPO right now until your test results come back. You do have hydration, and a dextrose solution

hanging right now. It may be a day or so until they feel your strong enough to eat."

"Ah… I knew that…" Tipper said, sighing. She heard the soft sigh of her roommate waking up, then the low hum of her bed changing position along with the rattle of her tray as the lid was taken off of the dish.

"The poor asparagus never had a chance," Tipper heard her roommate murmur, elevating the limp washed out vegetation from the plate.

"What are you in for?" Tipper blurted before she remembered the woman was a psych ward patient.

"They think I'm quite mad," she said simply, hearing Tipper catch her breath.

"Are you?" Tipper asked, curious.

"Insane? Perhaps. Mad? No, of course not. Dogs go mad, people get angry, and I've not felt anger during all of this, only… only profound sadness that I could be so blind."

For the longest time Tipper didn't hear anything from her. She felt her belly rumble again and knew she would have to do something to keep her mind off of what her tummy was trying to say. "Want to talk about it?" she asked. She didn't hear anything for a while. "I'm Tipper, and I was named that because I knock people over all the time…" Tipper said, trying to restart the conversation again. She heard the woman sigh again and the faint scritch scritch along with a

scrape of spoon to bowl.

"Artemis Poynte, and I was named that because my parents wanted me to be something far different than what I turned out to be… So, how did you get the designer body wear?"

For the longest time Tipper didn't answer. When she did, her voice was low, and had an edge of concern to it. "I was being pulled down the steps by the shadows and I landed the wrong way."

The scritch and spooning had stopped. Tipper didn't know why she had said what she did, but there was a moment where she knew she had tell the absolute truth in all of this if even to a total stranger who she probably would never see again. "Want to tell me why they think you should be here?" she asked as she tried to get a sideways glance at Artemis.

She heard her sigh then set her spoon down again. "It's a very long story," she said at last.

Tipper shrugged the best she could. "I'm not going anywhere for a long time."

The scratching started up again. "Very well. Starting at the beginning I suppose would be best. Twelve years ago I graduated at the top of my class and I took on a teaching position at the agricultural university as first an intern to Dr. Marcus Phippson who became my mentor and my friend before replacing him upon his retirement. I married a dashing classmate of mine from high school, Ben Saunders, and we had an idealistic life working together at the university, both of us being Biology majors in college, he in research, and I in applied agricultural development. We were both working on our thesis for tenure Ben assured me that our work would compliment each others in the long run. He was forever running back and forth across the campus, and I was ether in class, or buried nose deep into the books, so I never really realized how much time had passed between us. In retrospect I should have seen it all coming - I knew the amount of work needed to get tenure, and Ben never seemed to have done any of it, though he said often enough that he was doing his work when I was in class, and I believed him. He was my husband , and I adored him, how could I not?"

Artemis stopped for a moment as she finished her bowl of soup and set it aside to work on the sandwich. Tipper waited patiently. Halfway through she took a breath and continued. " I remember the events that happened the morning before it all went bad. I was working on the thesis, and I got a call from Brianna Phippson. She was Dr Phippson's daughter and president of the college. When she was promoted, he retired so that there wasn't a conflict of interest. There was a staff party before the alumni chose who was going to stay on for the next year. I had been invited, as was Ben, but I informed them I would be a bit late, I had some additions to the information before being submitted. She was returning the cook book she had borrowed, and had asked if she could use one of the serving bowls that I had for some dip that she made for the event. I remember wiping off the counter and tossing a sprig of something that I found on the counter away before returning to my work. I knew the party was well on its way and I really didn't feel up to going but I knew I had to.

Ben had the car, so I walked across campus to the Academic Deans home to arrive just in time to see Ben shouting something at Brianna before getting into the car. He was acting like he was very drunk and she was upset with something. The car roared past me, then went out of control at an accelerated speed before slamming into the stone gate posts. I ran down to the car - I could see him slumped over the steering wheel, the air bags hadn't gone off - there was a fire starting under the hood, and the car was filling up with smoke. I don't remember breaking the window glass with my arms, or dragging him out of the car, only the need to get him to safety, but, he was already gone, and they were pulling me away from him and my world went golden. I woke, bandaged up here, with no clear memory of what had happened. They said I wouldn't stop screaming, and that they had to restrain me from going back to him." For the longest time she fell silent.

Tipper finally had the nerve to ask her, "What did you mean about it wasn't what I thought - being?"

Artemis didn't answer at first. When she did, her voice was low. "Because we are torn in two all the time, our wants verses what we do. For the longest time, I had a want, then when it happened, I wanted something else."

"What did you want?" Tipper asked curiously.

"As much as I loved my husband, something inside of me wanted him… dead," she said at last, then fell silent.

Voices whispered in the darkness. At first Tipper tried to ignore the voices, then they became less jumbled. She recognized Jessica's voice, reading something with great care.

Drawing in a breath she pushed past the cobwebs and opened her eyes. The room lights were dim, and Jessica was reading from a book using one of those itty bitty book lights. Turning her head slightly she saw that her roommate's bed was empty, but that her things were still in place.

"Where is she?" asked Tipper curiously.

Jessica glanced over at the empty bed. "She had a visitor, and then shortly after had several

seizures. I had just come in when they started, so she received prompt medical care." Tipper noted a hesitation in Jessica's voice.

"What?" Tipper asked, curiosity getting the better of her. "What aren't you telling me?"

Jessica sighed as she lowered her voice. "I don't know if I did her a favor or not – its clear with out medical intervention, she would have died… but, well, the district attorney is building a case

against her for the murder of her husband. You see, they discovered that he had an allergic reaction to one of the spices in the dip that was served in her crockery. No one else became ill from it, just him, and it was a lethal dose… Furthermore they discovered some of the plant stem in her trash basket. The only thing that they can't figure out is if it was an accident. That particular spice has an alternative that was clearly marked in her recipe book, one that would have not been fatal to her husband…"

"She told me about what happened, she said that the president of the college had borrowed the book, and her dip dish, she had to complete her dialog for the tenure position."

Tipper saw Jessica become very thoughtful, and then sad. "Her notes for tenure were discovered, Tipper, however, the president of the college has reviewed them and informed the police they were a pale copy of what her husband had submitted two days before. They were going to announce his tenure at the gathering until they discovered her plagiarism. It wouldn't have looked good for the university, no matter how it came out."

Wishing she could shake her head she continued. "I don't believe she would need to plagiarized anything Jessica. Look over on her bed. She's been sketching that since I arrived here and I've just recognized what it is. It's DNA from some sort of plant, and its comparing it to another DNA source. If she is capable of remembering what the specific DNA looks like, I would bet you a long winning streak of the Red Sox that she's the original author of the thesis. Five will get you a C note that the person who came in to visit her was someone who wanted to keep that specific information quiet. If she was as diligent and focused on her paper as she was on the time she did the drawings, I have no doubt that she would have kept working on the paper instead of going to a social event. I find it very coincidental that just after the visitor came she had a seizure. I've got a gut feeling she's innocent, even though everything says she's not."

"I will have a word with Mort later on. As for now, I think I hear the food tray, and from what I've heard, you have been taken off of the NPO list…"

Jessica stayed with Tipper through out the afternoon, and when Tipper finally dozed off, she went over to the material that was tossed over the chair. Tipper had been correct, there was a certain brilliance in the drawing, closer to what would be seen in a text book. She felt a light touch on her arm. Gretchen stood behind her, ready to take the evening shift. Gathering her hand bag, Jessica made her way to the front of the hospital and nodded to one of the taxi drivers.

"Home, Mrs. Fletcher?" he asked, ready to make the right turn out of the hospital driveway. He waited until she was settled in regarding the expression on her face. Ben Michele had driven a taxi most of his life and he could read peoples expressions as to what they wanted to do before the person realized themselves. Had he seen the regular look on her face, he wouldn't have questioned it.

"How far is the Agricultural University from here Ben?" she asked, curious.

"Not far really, Mrs. Fletcher. Probably about half an hour." He saw her struggle for a moment with her thoughts. "I took a fair there earlier today. A lady with reddish brown hair," he said helpfully.

Jessica blinked several times. "But you didn't bring her here?" Jessica knew that each driver had his own area that he ran, and that the areas were fiercely protected by the other drivers. Ben was a regular of the hospital - so much so that the hospital called him their second rescue crew member.

He shook his head. "No, I was doing the airport run early, then a lunch break. I was doing a drop off, so the curb guys didn't grumble much." Knowing that she wouldn't be going home with the look on her face as it was, Ben turned his car to the left and in short order merged onto the expressway. "I'll stick around for you… going to be taking a dinner break myself, and that will save you time on calling for another, who in my honest opinion, wouldn't know how to find the bay from their own back doors."

Most universities were set up the same. In most of the buildings there was a map that directed the visitors to the receptionist desk. Jessica's sharp eyes took in the signs about the campus as they

pulled in front of the main building.

"It used to be a spit in the mud trade school where you could get your farm equipment repaired, until it merged with two others, a mail-in writers school, and a cooking school. Then they were bequeathed a chunk of farmland next to the campus so that the heirs wouldn't have to pay taxes on it, have a place to live and have younger people work the farm. It's actually tried to become a bit prestigious over the last three years."

Getting out, he opened the door for Jessica and pointed her in the direction of the Welcome desk that bore dark flowers. On a tripod was a large photograph of a handsome gentleman who had gleam in his eyes. Above the photograph was a dark bow and a card expressing regrets over the passing of one so young. It reminded Jessica of how young Frank was at his passing. For a moment she closed her eyes so that she would remain in control of her emotions. Frank's death had been tragic, as had Grady's parents' deaths as well.

"May I help you?" asked a strong woman's voice behind Jessica.

Drawing in a breath Jessica turned and saw a lady with short blond hair that seemed flat and unstyled next to her pressed linen suit. Something in the way that she wore the red power suit and carried herself informed Jessica that this was Brianna Phippson and she was someone used to getting her own way all the time. The only thing that seemed out of place was the excess of makeup that she wore about her eyes. Jessica recognized it as a cream concealer that was used to

cover birthmarks. There was no indication of swelling about the eyes, which ruled out bruising though there was a curious brown mark under the left temple hair.

"You must be Brianna Phippson, I'm Jessica Fletcher, A friend of mine has asked if I look into a personal matter for her on your campus." Jessica could see several students watching with curiosity from the doors in the hallway.

"If it is in regards to the tragic death of Dr. Ben Saunders, the police have considered the case closed. "

"Actually, it's in regards to his wife, Artemis Poynte, and the murder attempt on her today in the hospital. The hospital records showed she had a visitor prior to her seizures, and there is evidence that directly links this school with that visitor. Now, you can either speak with me, or you can have the police all over this campus as well as more news casters than can fit in your cafeteria. It's your choice."

Mort worked his way down to the sandy beach and glanced about. There had to have been at least four tide changes since Tipper was here. Sighing, and not expecting to find anything at this point, Mort turned to return up the path to where his car was parked. Something bleached white tucked in the cliff face caught his attention. Walking over he saw that it was a bone, from the looks of it, it had been crystallized by the sea salt and sand and was pretty old. He was about to move it when he saw other stones, placed next to it and that the bone, in the shape of an arrow. There were four other small rocks in front. Playing a hunch, Mort took four steps in the arrow's

direction and then looked down. Something was in the sand beneath him. He knew in his gut that there was - something. Sighing, he marked the spot and then went back up to his car and called for backup.

It was a scant few moments that the unearthing of a skeleton was uncovered in that same spot. According to the direction of the body, the arm had been over the head which was why that particular bone had been discovered first. People drowned all the time. Boats sank and the cold north Atlantic was not a forgiving mistress. They were able to extract bits of the clothing, and calculate that this person hadn't been dead more than fifteen years.

It was later in the evening when Mort entered into Tippers hospital room. "So, why didn't you call it in?" he asked curiously.

"Call what in?" Tipper answered, truly puzzled.

"The body, at seaboard cove." He said in a tone that informed her she should know what he was talking about. He saw the blank look on her face. Sighing he opened a folder and held up a photograph of the bone still sitting on the shelf of rock.

"That's just a bone ..." she said, shaking her head.

"Tipper, it belonged to a young woman who was murdered, shot in the back of the head. We recovered her skeleton about two hours ago. Why didn't you report it?"

For a moment Tipper was silent.

"Well?" he asked curiously.

He saw at once the weary look in her eyes, the shrinking of her shoulders into the bed. "I've had enough death, thank you. I'm not getting involved any more and I'm not going to tell my grandchildren that every time I turned around in my youth that I fell over yet another corpse. I'm tired of being shot at, losing people that I love, and having to wake up at night dreaming as I do. Let someone else have those dreams and duty."

Mort let out a soft sigh before picking up her hand. "From all that I've learned since Willie and Taylor lived here, some people just have it in them to be the point person for all of this. We can't make it stop. It's a part of us that will always bring something into our lives that others can't handle."

"I cant do it any more, Mort. I can't," Tipper said softly before her eyes closed in their own accord of slumber.

Mort brushed back a wisp of hair from her forehead. "I know," he said softly.

Jessica could see that her bluff wasn't going to work. She saw Brianna turn, and was about to call for the campus security when a warm male voice said behind her.

"Jessica! How wonderful to see you!

Turning, Jessica saw an elderly man with rough hands that had smudges of dirt under the nails.

"Marcus?" she gasped in disbelief.

"Yes, its me, reduced to a humble college professor ..." She saw him regard his daughter in silence.

"Father, your the Dean of Academics at this collage, that's hardly a reduction of status!" Brianna said sharply.

Jessica noticed that Marcus straightened his spine a bit more. It wasn't that her reminder of his status had provided him spirit, rather, the tone of admonishing she had given him had raised the hackles on his back. the look in his eyes told Jessica there was more going on than he could say at that moment. "Come, let me show you ..."

"Mrs. Fletcher was just leaving, father." Brianna said abruptly. "She has a cab waiting."

Marcus flickered his eyebrow upward. "I can return you to where ever you need to be. I have been waiting for the chance to show you the hybrid roses that we started twenty years ago between Marc Anthony Rosa and Cesareans Rosa, quite a delightful combination! This way..." Taking Jessica by the elbow he guided her away from his fuming daughter.

When they were halfway to the greenhouse, Jessica said softly, "I don't remember a rose named after Caesar."

"Neither would Brianna," he said simply, gently folding her hand in the crook of his elbow. "Something is going on with my daughter, Jessica, I'm sad to say. I don't know what, or why, or how, she has everything she could want - a successful career with status, a peaceful workplace, medical benefits, and a secret lover."

"A secret lover? She told you?"

Marcus chuckled. "Not in so many words, but a father knows."

Tipper woke and stretched. Blinking she realized that she was actually able to stretch, and the pain in her joints were remarkably absent. Her eyebrow raised slightly as she eyed what was on the IV pole. _Superior pharmaceuticals! _she thought, grinning. She felt warm and glowie as if she had had a long nap in the sunshine. Sitting up, she felt something. she turned, and saw she was sleeping peacefully and that it was just a shimmery image of herself sitting up. _This can't be good, _she thought, and looking back at the monitors found she was still in normal sinus rhythm.

"Don't leave your body, dear," she heard a familiar voice say softly.

Turning her head again to look in the other direction, she saw Toot.

"Where is Faraday?" she asked, curious, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man who'd so quickly caused all her dreams to rush together.

"Off minding another end of the family. You shouldn't be afraid of your gifts, dear heart. Aye, they are gifts, though not all see the use in what can be done. You ha' been involved since the first day ye opened your eyes and saw the world differently. Half of ye' sees what others don't, and the other half sees what others won't ever glimpse - the truth. That there is more to the world than light and shadows. You have the heart to wish to fit in, and please everyone, and its pulling you apart in many directions, and the shadows know this. They aren't good, or bad in any direct way, they do what they must though to keep order. They make people face what they wish not to ever see again. You being, your talent, is facing death every day, and ether granting the gift of life from your hands, or easing that which be into death's hands to be carried home."

"The markings, in the cellar - did Willie know about them?" she asked, needing to know.

"Wasn't his place to find them. The paint you tried to cover them with won't work on them - much like a parent who tries to scrub the crayon off the wall, it just comes through. They have been there for generations, and will stay there till the end of time, an no lass, they didna call the shadows to you, if that's what your wondering. You needn't worry, though, dear heart. Only those who have been touched by grace can see them."

"If they come back, I - I can't hold them off, Toot. I can't keep them at bay anymore. they will come and take me - and I just don't want to keep getting involved anymore. Don't they understand that?"

"Each journey is for a reason, child. Even into the shadows."

Toot's hand pressed against her shoulder and eased her back into her body. Tipper felt a jolt as her body connected and the twisting pain she had been enduring came with a rush of emotions. She knew the next time she saw the shadows, they would get her, and she would die.

Tipper heard a soft laugh that she knew was Toot's. "We all die, dear heart. Just not today."

Glancing about with her eyes, Tipper saw her vital signs on the monitor unchanged.

_What markings? _she wondered to herself. She couldn't remember. She looked at her nails, and saw embedded near the cuticles a whitish paint that she knew was used to white wash the side of houses, but she didn't remember doing any painting at all. She remembered fixing the steps, and

deciding just the other day to make a finished second basement with French drains behind so that it would drain properly in case of any more flooding. Harrison had been helpful in ordering the type of boards that just snapped into place and wouldn't drain her bank account and said they would be good for a couple of generations.

Until it would be forgotten, or buried with time.

Toot had said that the shadows weren't after her because of what the writing said. If there was writing, if it had been a dream, it could have been paint from anything, she just didn't remember.

The bone, though. As hard as she had tried to block it out of her mind, she still saw the white bone upon the sand. She knew what it was. she knew that it was something that she would regret getting involved in, and if the actions of the shadows were any indication, then it said that some how, she was involved in a way she didn't understand.

Something moved from the corner of her eye. Blinking once, she saw it move again, low then move up and Tipper knew what it was.

The shadows had found her.

Tipper knew she couldn't run, or fight - or even scream. For a heart beat, she wondered if her life would flash before her eyes, but then a different thought took hold of her. Regret. At first, it was the regret for not bringing the bone to the attention of the authorities, but she pushed that aside. She _had_ made a mark where it would be found - and that was the best she could do. If she was going to be damned for her regrets, then it would be for something that tore at her more. Her deepest regrets - not being there as much as she wanted to help young Frank when he was struggling with his rehab. Her duties at the clinic prevented her from being with those she cared about, knowing that for some, time was very precious. Her regret at not letting Taylor know what Willie was doing, and regret that so many good people had to lose their lives because the government had its dirty secrets and regret that she couldn't do more to stop the injustice of it all.

She pushed deeper, bringing the pain of Faraday dying in her arms up to the surface. If she was to be condemned over a death, why not his? She was the one who had dragged him into the room, and he'd lost his life defending her. All the love she had in her heart for him - her love of life had died that day. Why hadn't the shadows taken her then and spared her all the abject misery and pain she had undergone since then?

Tears filled her eyes, not of shame, but of rage. How dare they judge her? How dare they _just now_ decide to take her, when her soul had been ravaged all this time from the knowledge Faraday would be alive if it wasn't for her, and that a part of her had died that day as well. The shadows loomed over her, and she looked at them - looked at what was under the hood of the shadows, not caring, not feeling horror, or anything, just grief.

A silvery hand reached out and touched the tears on her cheek. There wasn't a face at all, rather just a simple light that shown from under the cowl. Not a fearsome beast, or monster, just something as simple as the light.

Faint words whispered in her head.

Faraday would have still died, as would the others - it was their time. She felt a sense of confusion from them. She was very much alive, though they had felt her soul wax, her spirit diminish, and dark brooding thoughts filled her from all that she had seen. She was surrounded by memories of the dead, and the dead spoke to her, unheard of to the shadows save for few. She had died before, yet she lived. When she fell, all hope had left her. Her emotions, raw now, galvanized her. "I am a good person," she manage to whisper.

There was a curious, sound, almost a chuckle. Not evil or malevolent, but parental.

_'Without shadows and darkness in ones life, one does not see the light,' _the soft voice said to her, resting its hand on her forehead.

"Why did you try to drag me away, and the elevator shaft? Why?"

_'You were not ready.'_

Puzzling over being ready for what, Tipper felt the grief that had come to the surface and crash against her ebb back into a place in her heart. She felt different, in a way she couldn't explain.

_'Darkness is nether good, or evil - it is only light contained, its release is hope,' _the voice said gently before the shadows stepped back and faded in the shaft of sunlight breaking through the clouds and entering her room.

When Mort came to check on her later that afternoon he found her in bed, eyes wide open, with the nurses saying she had become unusually quiet after her nap. Mort pulled up a chair and took her hand in his.

"Something you want to talk about?" he asked curiously.

"If you have a blue rubber ball, and its your most favorite thing in the whole world, and you find out the blue rubber ball has a yellow center, which, is very bad - do you give it up, or do you accept it as it is, because it never changed, only your perception of what is right, and wrong?"

Mort sat up, looking at Tipper keenly. He was about to dismiss what she had said to hospital psychosis, but the way she looked ... He glanced down, remembering his brother, all the problems that kid made for him, and how he never stopped loving him, but the bad things he

did made him stop liking him as a person. The later acceptance of his brother caused Mort to look back at Tipper, who was waiting for an answer.

"With time, I would accept it. Love is very powerful ... powerful enough that you would protect it too."

For a moment Tipper said nothing, then just nodded. He saw her eyes grow heavy and it was a few heartbeats later that she fell asleep.

Mort stretched to turn off the light, and in doing so, caught a glimpse of something on her hand. Curious, he turned the palm of her hand to the light for a moment, then turned it off. Quietly he left her room to stand in the doorframe. He had found the paint cans. he had been all over the store looking for clues, and had no idea where she had painted. She wouldn't have painted at the clinic and then brought the empty cans to the store. There had to be something else.

Jessica moved among the flowers which yielded fragrant blossoms and inhaled deeply.

"This is beautiful Marcus!" she said, smiling as she turned back to him. She paused as she saw him regard a plant in a small pot. He was frowning at something. Jessica stepped closer and saw that the plant had been pinched back rather severally. She recognized it as an aromatic herb, but wasn't familiar with its particular Latin designation. "Marcus? What is it?"

Marcus looked up at her, his eyes troubled. "I know every single plant in this greenhouse, I know the labels, and how many leaves each will weald and what use they will bring. I trust Dr. Poynte as well to know how to do her job properly."

"But you don't recognize this one?" she asked, curious.

"Oh, no, I do in fact, but, the tag isn't what it is supposed to be. It's not in her hand writing, which all of her work tagging is. It's not a commercial grade plant - it's wrong in so many ways..."

Placing the plant down he wiped the dirt from his hands. "Jessica - I know my daughter has had some difficult times in the past with relationships and in her professional life. She has always had an ambition, to have it all, no matter who she has to hurt in the process. I am aware that she was angry with the relationship that I have with Dr. Poynte, and I had hoped by my stepping aside and allowing her to take over the university that she would be happy."

"Your relationship, Marcus - surely ..."

Marcus shook his head. "No nothing like that. Artemis is as dear to me as my own daughter, though we are closer than Brianna and I ever were. She shares the same passion I do for plants, and teaching. It was surprising, though, when her husband turned in the tenure study that he did - and then Artemis turned hers in, three days later, and it was nearly identical. Artemis's was flawless, her husband's had one or two errors, but they were overlooked due to the ground breaking research. Yes, he was into research, but not at her level. I watched her come to those conclusions."

Her husband, while he was here - well, not to speak ill of the dead, but while he was brilliant in his own right, he didn't serve the same passion. Brianna lauded him as the next Darwin though, and when Artemis's paper came out, Brianna, acted rather oddly. She didn't even read it, she said it needed revisions, and sent her back to work on it the day of the party, and let Artemis know she would have her answer that evening. When Artemis didn't show up, Brianna went ahead and announced that Artemis had been dismissed for plagiarism, and that her brilliant husband would be taking over the position with tenure. She went as far as saying that Artemis would have to remove herself from the campus. When the accident happened, Brianna informed the police that Artemis knew this, but I was there. I had seen her dismissal of Artemis's work, and I knew something was horribly wrong."

"As her mentor you would have had to have reviewed it before she turned it in. You would have seen any flaws. Why did you allow Brianna to accept Artemis's husband's work as his own?"

Running his fingers through his hair he leaned against the bench. "I'm an old man, Jessica. There was already talk about the type of relationship that I had with Artemis - though it was entirely proper, Brianna would have taken steps to see that I would have been removed. This - this research here is my life. Without the college, I have no place to go. When she told Artemis that her paper had errors in it, it was saying to me, that she would then take steps to show that my teachings had been flawed. I had been challenging her on other things, and I needed to have all my facts before I could confront her publicly at the party, but there was no time to make it happen. I don't know if she had purposely said that knowing Artemis would go back and review her work right away, or that she was hoping to humiliate her in front of everyone. It's like I don't know what my own daughter is capable of." Sighing, he looked at the plant. "Even murder."

Jessica watched as he placed the plant carefully back on the potting shelves and dusted his hands off. For a moment he stood silently, then turned to Jessica and regarded her. "I love my daughter, Jessica. I have supported her when I knew she was wrong, and wished for the best when she was learning through her mistakes. Artemis and Brianna always have been in a sort of competition, Brianna always wanting what Artemis had, and Artemis struggling to finally be recognized for her brilliance. They grew up together and were as close as anything in their childhood. It wasn't until later that I realized that it was Brianna hanging on Artemis - using her to get what she wanted. By rights, Artemis has far more qualifications to run this school than Brianna, but she didn't want it. Both were professors here, both at the top of their class, and it was my decision that gave Brianna her position, by default. The only thing that Artemis did on her own was to marry, and quietly at that. Brianna had no problems bringing him on staff, and from there - well, things didn't work out, I guess, the way that she planned."

"You suspect that Brianna's lover is Artemis's husband, don't you?"

"What a horrid thing to say, Mrs. Fletcher!" was a stunned gasp from the door of the greenhouse. Brianna strode forward and stood with her hands on her hips. "I would never do such a thing!" she said with a tinge of anger in her voice. Straightening herself to her full height she regarded her father.

"I've spoken to the board, and with the untimely death of Ben Saunders, and with the dismissal of Artemis, well, there really is no need to keep these greenhouses active. I've called for their removal, and the board has granted the funding for this area to be converted into faculty parking."

Ronald Marcus Phippson regarded his daughter. He had built the greenhouse to be the finest research facility on the east coast. For the longest time he stood silently, then he began to laugh. The laughter shocked his daughter, who looked at him as if he was mad.

Wiping a tear from his face he turned to Jessica. "My daughter forgets herself sometimes. You see, Jessica, while she may wish to cover evidence of what she's done, she's forgotten to look at the deed to the college, and what it stipulates." Turning back to his daughter he said, "Thank you, dear, for finally giving me a loophole to have you removed as president of this college. I think you have done quite enough, and it's time that the position is given to some one else who actually cares more about the students and the college than whose life she can destroy."

Brianna strode forward to slap him. He caught her wrist and held it tightly. "If you would have bothered to check the deed, it stipulates the grounds must remain unchanged for a period of 550 years. Any member of staff who defies this shall be removed from position, even the president of the college. I know what you have done, and what you are planning, Brianna, and it's over," he said firmly.

Brianna pulled away and snarled as she pulled over one of the potting benches with in her reach. Pots shattered and dirt and plant spilt everywhere. " Do you think anyone really cares what a 100 year old deed says? or that they will listen to you once I let them know you have been sleeping with that favorite student of yours? She's a third your age!"

Catching her arm again he pulled her out the door of the greenhouse and into the open air where she could do no further harm. Jessica looked at the plant that Marcus had placed on the other shelf. He had found it on the potting shelf she had tipped over - perhaps by instinct, perhaps by luck, it was now safe, and hidden among the other plants. Picking up a pair of shears, Jessica trimmed a single leaf off of the plant and placed it in her eyeglass case in her purse. It would have to do until she could get the plant part analyzed and discover why it seemed so wrong to Marcus. She was about to go when she hesitated - picking up a larger flower pot, she took the smaller plant, placed it on the ground, pushed it under the bench, and covered it with the larger flower pot. It would be safe, and she had been very careful to not add fingerprints to it. If her hunch was correct, Mort would need to know how to find the plant, and it needed to be safe from any more of Brianna's outbursts.

When she stepped out of the green house, she saw security guards there with Brianna in cuffs. She was struggling wildly and furious with her father. "He did the damage!" she said, pushing back the guard.

"No, Brianna, you did," said Jessica.

"She's his friend, they plotted this!" she screamed, lashing out at Jessica with her foot.

"Mrs. Fletcher is a well respected member of Cabot Cove, and a famous author. She would have no reason to lie, and every reason to tell the truth," he said as he removed her pass key and purse.

"What do you want us to do with her, sir?" asked one of the guards, uncertain and wary of her lashing feet.

"Place her in the security briefing room, under guard, even if you have to cuff her to one of the bars, until the police arrive."

"The police? Are you mad? For what?" she demanded

"Destruction of student property, and of government research worth over four billion dollars to the pharmaceutical companies for starters, and if anything happens to the greenhouse, I will be sure to mention it at your competency hearing. Me sleeping with students, indeed! I aught

to wash your mouth out with soap, young lady!'

Jessica took the waiting cab to Mort's office where he eyed the leaf with curiosity. He leaned against his desk then sighed. "You realize that the two people in the world who can give me answers on this are not available - Willie's gone, and yes, we were using Artemus Poynte to

do our DNA research for the lab that Willie had set up."

"I'm not a horticulturist, but, I do know cooking. Its horseradish. But the pot said something else - something that Marcus frowned over."

Jessica took time to explained to Mort what had happened, and how she had worked to preserve the evidence. Nodding, Mort sighed and picked up his cell to call his wife. "Anywhere I can drop you off before I go to the judges office for a warrant for this plant? I'd like to see it before it gets swept away by the cleaning crew."

"I will go with you, Mort. I can show you the pot, and hopefully you can speak with Marcus so that this can be resolved."

It was a nail biting five and a half hours before the judge was back from dinner with his wife - no one knew where they had gone, or when they would be back. Mort drove through the dark with a certainty they were racing against time. It was dark on campus, something that Jessica said was odd because the lights for the parking lot were out. The students were on the front lawn with flashlights and blankets.

"What's going on?" asked Mort to one of the young jocks who had a girl on each arm holding them up as they giggled in the night air.

"Whoa - just had to evacuate the school, someone pulled the fire alarm for the whole campus and we all had to leave the dorms past lights-out."

"Mort, the greenhouse," said Jessica as she saw a light move between the plants, knowing they were not moving from the brisk breeze that moved the trees that night.

While Mort had retired, he was still in pretty good shape. Adele had seen to that and if he had any hopes of beating her at arm wrestling he had to keep up his endurance. As he approached the greenhouse, he could hear the sound of something smashing. Groaning he pushed himself a bit harder, and burst in.

"FREEZE - POLICE!" he shouted. There was a flicker of a match as someone turned, and the whiff of gasoline in the air. Mort cocked his gun and held his ground. Squeezing off a shot he blew out the window pane. The wind gushed in, blowing the match out. Mort didn't get a good look at the person beyond their height, and that they were wearing a black ski mask over their face. Rather than giving up, the person dashed through the window, shattering it, and burst away into the darkness. Mort was about to follow when he heard a low moan in the corner and went to investigate. The elderly man laying with a bleeding scalp was no doubt Marcus, as Jessica would confirm.

Clean up crews would report later that fortunately the gasoline did not contaminate the soils of the plants, but rather was directed at the raised floors that were wooden and replaced every season. They were an odd material that resisted water, but the gas cut through the oil properties of the wood making them a tinder box. No prints were found on the abandoned can, and the little plant was discovered safe and sound by Mort, and held in a box while they returned to the jail. The doctors would inform them later Marcus would be fine, though he would have a heck of a bump on his forehead.

"Do you think your daughter had any thing to do with this, Marcus?" Jessica asked softly.

"I don't know. I was looking for the plant when I was hit from behind. I knew something was going to happen when the lights went out, and somehow Brianna was able to convince one of the security guards to let her go, so she is at large. I've really nothing to hold her on, and if it was her, and not a rival drug company, then she would have seen the plant being removed from the greenhouse. "

"What is so special about that particular plant, Marcus?"

He looked at Jessica. "It shouldn't be there," he said softly.

Tipper heard a noise of a wheeled cart coming into her room. Muzzly she blinked then yawned, wondering what time it was. She saw Seth looking down at her, a grin on his face.

"Awake I see, young lady? Good, its about time that you have something to do, rather than just

lay in bed feeling sorry for yourself."

He checked the IV drip and then pressed the button that raised the back of her bed so that she was beginning to sit up. She was mildly surprised to find that she didn't feel any pain and raised a questioning eyebrow to Seth.

"You're fine. The nerve block that you had last night will prevent discomfort while you do some work for Mort."

'What sort of work did he have in mind?" she asked, curious.

Seth pulled the cover off of the microscope that had been placed on a gyro platform. While the specimen would have to be kept with in a certain tilt angle, if it was small and covered with a glass plate, she could look at it almost just where she was with out leaning forward. She eyed the foam containers. "I'm not going to like what's in here, am I?" she said.

"Nothing you haven't seen before, except in an animal. What we need to know from the blood and contents, and even this little guy here -" he indicated a box with a rather battered plant that had evidence of fingerprint dust on it - "is exactly what killed Artemis Poynte's husband."

"This isn't exactly my area of expertise, Seth!" she said, wincing at the smell wafting from one of the containers.

Seth didn't say a word as he set up a sterile field on the bed, and popped a mask on her face, as well as a fresh gown. "Nothing you haven't done in your practice to find out what was making a pet ill. Willie was fairly confident that you could manage something like this in your sleep."

"Have you heard from Taylor? Since the babies' births?"

"Only to say that the kids and babies are all doing fine. Shame Toot can't be released early to join them. With Willie and the others gone, she really doesn't have any one to help her manage. Nasty

doings, with the fires ... why any one would light them is beyond me. From what I understand, there wasn't much left for George to identify the bodies except for the DNA. It's over though - those who were responsible have been punished."

Seth saw a far away look in her eyes as they brimmed with tears. "He was a good man," she said softly. For a moment, she held her gaze on the small plant, then said, "Somehow, I don't think that they will be letting Toot join Taylor. The laws are funny about some things."

It took the better part of an hour for Tipper to determine that the person's histamine levels were through the roof, and to analyze the contents of his last meal. Once she had the composition, she worked backwards, and identified the specific ingredients. By chance she found a small piece of a leaf, and set it aside. Under the microscope she could see that it was the same as the plant that she had on her stand, and it would take a second test to confirmed that the sample and the plant were both the same DNA. Frowning, she picked up the plant and smelled the leaves. While the scent was faint, it was undoubtedly of the wasabi/horseradish variety. Though the most common use of the root would be for cooking, it wasn't uncommon to use the leaves for other dishes. While she studied the plant and moved one of the small stems aside, another moved. Curious, she saw that a single strand of hair was tangled in the foliage. Using the tweezers, she picked the hair out and laid it on a napkin as she tipped some water into the plant to reduce the shock. A droplet of water fell on the hair leaving a small stain behind on the napkin.

"Now that's interesting," she said to herself.

In four hours, and in time for her dinner tray, she had some answers for Mort.

"He had an allergic reaction to a leaf from the plant that you gave me. I don't know what your finger prints have said, but I found a single hair that had a temporary rinse dye on it - Ash Brown, by the color - and I seem to remember someone with that hair color came into the hospital when Artemis had her attack."

"Well, all we could find on the plants pot was Artemis, Marcus and Mrs. Fletcher's finger prints, no one else's. Marcus doesn't seem like the type to wear hair dye. Was there a follicle at the end of the hair?"

Tipper shook her head. "No, but it's pretty distinctive. This hair has been permed, and dyed, and then had the rinse over it. I would have thought that it may have been an accidental contamination, except, well, when I tweezed the hair out, I found a few more below in the dirt, wrapped about the root. It had to have been the person who potted the plant. If they were planning this from the start, they would have worn gloves."

"Why didn't it wash off before?"

"They watered this plant from the bottom, the hair was protected by a fair number of leaves, and my guess is that it was a fresh rinse that had been heat set. Little bits would have come off every day with watering from the top - that's the nature of the dye - but watering from the bottom, the hair doesn't absorb any liquid at all. It's a common shade, though - getting someone with a purchase of this, even eliminating everyone who didn't go to the school. I'd say half the girls on campus swap dyes weekly."

Mort sighed. "So we have nothing except Dr. Poynte's fingerprints on this and for all we know, it's her hair, because we can't match DNA."

"Did I say we had nothing, Mort?" Tipper asked with a grin.

Mort tilted his head. He would have to play poker more often with Tipper if she could keep such a face as she had while explaining things. "So, what do we have then?" he asked carefully.

"Well, it's simple. Look, Artemis wouldn't have cared if her fingerprints were all over this plant because if you check, they are all over every other plant in the place. She also isn't the type to dye or perm her hair. I saw it - she has _some_ gray, and its poker straight, but it's also wispy fine. Ladies who have that hair type don't dare do anything to it in fear of losing what little hair they _do_ have."

Mort considered what she had said, then nodded again. "I'll run it past Mrs. F," he said as Tipper settled back into her covers.

To her surprise, the next morning Tipper woke to find her clothing at the bottom of the bed and a nurse signing discharge papers.

"Doc says your doing well enough to go home and rest, though he said not to climb those steps of yours for a few days. You're to relax for the next four days, and then you can return to work. The pain management seems to have relaxed the muscle spasms in your back, and you're fine."

"Really?" Tipper asked brightly. "Do I get breakfast first?"

The nurse laughed as she went out the door. "Of course," she said as she closed the door so Tipper could have some privacy.

Once dressed and waiting for her breakfast, Tipper glanced about and then made her way down the hall to the nurses' station. She could see the patients' names written on the white board, and she was curious about how Artemis was doing. To her relief she saw Artemis was only a few doors down. Quietly Tipper went down the hall to peek in.

All the tubes and wires were gone except a simple IV. The oxygen and the restraints were gone, and at the sound of her footsteps, Artemis woke focused on Tipper, and gave a smile.

"I know you," she said softly. "It's good to see you up and about ... and you have faced them, haven't you?"

Tipper found herself nodding to Artemis's question.

Tipper left the hospital two hours later, but instead of heading home as directed, she had the taxi drop her off at the shop. Her bag hit the floor with a soft thud. She could tell Mort had been here, that he had finished the steps for her. Locking the door from the inside she knew that only a key would open it, and only Mort would have the spare. he was on night duty, and would be sleeping for several hours. Stuffing some granola bars in her bag with two water bottles she opened the door to the basement. Using the rail she went down to the second basement and turned on the overhead light. Her fingers traced over the thin boards that she had used to panel the lower basement. It hadn't been hard, really, once she had measured things, and drilled support screws

on the wall, she just had to hammer it along the main one, and it sealed up the walls. Except for one thing that she had done.

Perhaps it was part of everything that she had been through, the desire to hide things, to get her life back to normal. Willy would have known what to do, Willy should have been the one dealing with all of this, but Willy couldn't, he had left it to her, and Willy was dead according to Mort,

though Toot was alive.

It didn't make sense, though. Toot had been the one she had seen in her dream, vision, whatever she had experienced. She only saw dead people. No, that wasn't quite true, she had seen Margarita, but she was special, she could place herself in one's dreams. Toot had never done that before.

Her hands felt the cool breeze behind the boards. She had to know - she had to be strong enough to do this, and for now, she had to do it by herself.

Giving the board a push, it went in slightly and then the spring latch gave swinging the door open. She had the idea from one of the entertainment centers shed seen - it was flush, it was safe and only if you pushed in the right area would it open. It would open with a nudge from the other side too, so she was safe from getting locked in there.

The air was cool, and dry as the light from the room flooded in the limestone cave that had been uncovered from the water. She could smell the fresh paint that she had placed on the walls, trying to hide what she didn't understand, what had scared her witless.

She walked into the tunnel and into the room that it opened up into. She had placed ten layers of paint over the writings on the wall, and it had bled through. Now her hand went to the wall and traced what was written.

Names.

Names of people she knew. Her mother's family name was here, as was Willie's family, back as far as the first names that had come over and beyond. These were the names of the hidden, and the ones that were seen. It connected everyone who had been born to the line, those who had the sight. There was more, but she couldn't deal with it, or face it.

She had seen the white marble block in the corner, with the same cut-out as the worry stone she never let leave her pocket. Something drew her at the time to place the worry stone in the cut out, and the soft scrape grind of a moving stone wall on the other side had caught her attention.

Her flashlight had caught the bones, and the cloths that had wrapped them. This place, this room had been a tomb for those who wore the ivy and clover rings. She had seen more marble in there, and steps going down carved in marble, and she had closed the door and done her best to cover what she had seen. She wouldn't go down the steps, though, not alone, not without having some way to be sure she wasn't going to get trapped behind the wall to die there.

She didn't know who to trust though. There was an energy she couldn't explain when she was down in that room, and the memory of what the Fordhams were saying, that this was the gathering place, this place had the energy ... she knew, now, why, and how, and the power that could come from those who would channel the energy for their own reasons. Even if she did have the 'sight' to speak to those who were dead in these chambers, and to see beyond, the notion of actually doing so terrified and fascinated her at the same time. Tipper closed the room, walked back to the door she had created and closed it. She pulled up a box and sat down leaning against the wall.

Her answers were here. she didn't know how, except by the room being sealed very well, the water didn't destroy everything. She knew that the tunnel continued on to the now fixed water main pipe, and that there was probably more beyond that she would have to know about in

time. These were smugglers caves as well. it was telling, what this place had been used for.

Opening her bag, she pulled out one of the bars. She wasn't going to go home until she had her answer, one way, or another.

There was probably more beyond that she would have to know about in time. These were smugglers' caves as well. It was telling what this place had been used for.

Mort had learned of Tipper's release when he stopped by the hospital. He had been by her home to feed her cats earlier, and the fact that the cats were pretty hungry informed him she hadn't been there. Jessica hadn't seen her, and intuition told him she would be at the shop. He went there, letting himself in, and looked around. A light from the basement made him curious - he was always very careful to turn it off before leaving. Going down the steps he found her sitting in a corner looking at the wall.

"Doc is going to hit the roof if he knows you're here. You're to be resting," he said.

Tipper didn't look at him. "I am resting. And I'm eating as well..."

Mort pulled up a box and sat down. "So, is it just morbidness that draws you here?" he asked.

She gave him a puzzled look.

"The young man was killed in this shop, and Mrs. F was nearly killed in the first basement. So, who died down here?" he asked jokingly.

There was a jerk from her which spoke volumes.

"Okay, where are they?" he asked, sighing.

"Where are who?"

"The bodies, bones - what ever you found ..."

It wasn't fear which crossed her face, but alarm.

"You _did_ find bodies down here! I was just teasing you before but from your reaction, there is something down here I need to know about."

"No, you do NOT need to know about this, Mort! People who do need to know end up dead, or committed," she snapped, before falling silent.

"Willie hid more guns down here?" he gasped.

Tipper frowned. "What? No, he always hid them at the school," she said off hand.

Mort's head went back far enough from surprise to almost hit the wall. "You KNEW about them and you didn't tell me? How long did you know about this? Concealing information of gun smuggling is a class one felony..."

"I didn't help him smuggle them, I only helped him with how to destroy them with out harming the environment. You cant drop seven tons of guns and biohazards with out some impact somewhere, and it's all destroyed, so its finished and it got him killed. This has nothing to do with the guns, and it's a family matter, so just leave it."

Mort took a few calming breaths. Granted, Tipper had withheld evidence from him, but according to Scotland Yard that case was closed, and had finished with a bad end. A lot of innocent people _had_ died.

"As Willie's is dead, and his family is dead, or in hiding, there isn't any harm in cleaning out this particular closet," he said, indicating the second basement.

He saw Tipper close her eyes and wilt. "It's not Willie's family line ..." she said softly.

"Its not?" he asked, confused now. He saw her bite her bottom lip and ball up her fists.

"How on earth did your family get involved in all of this?" he asked in a breathless whisper. He was guessing. Tipper, while she cared deeply for her friends, would have no issue with speaking freely if it was just someone whom she didn't know well. This was personal, though - he could read it in her body language.

"I don't know. I don't know enough to know, and it's like - there is going to be something really really bad if it comes out. There are things here, that shouldn't be - somehow, they were brought over, and I don't know how Kent Fordham knew that this was the spot to do it, but it is, and Mort, all I know is that from what we found out on the sword, a lot of good people were murdered either to keep the secret safe, or to try to get it out of them. Who would you be willing to give up? Ian? Taylor and her kids, the girls? Frank Jr. or me? Let this one go until I'm able to find a solution for it. The less you know, the better it is."

"Are you sure it has to do with what you think?"

She nodded.

"All right. I want to help you though, you can't do this alone. What do I have to look for, or notice?"

Tipper blinked. The rings. But there was something about them. They were clean, and shining, and they were solid silver. Whatever was in that room took the air away, unless it was something else. She glanced over to the door and saw a fuzzy mist seeping out from underneath. The tide was coming in, the pressure in the room was changing, reacting to the rising sea water.

"Mort, we need to get upstairs right now," she said, struggling to her feet.

Mort got up and saw the mist. "I don't think I'm going to like what that is, will I?"

She shook her head.

He grabbed her pack and guided her as fast as they could move, closing each of the doors behind them. Going up to the street level Mort locked the door and escorted Tipper to the police cruiser. "Come on," he said.

She hesitated. "Where to?" she asked.

Mort lowered his voice so only she could hear. "To the only connection that I know of which brings the family to the States."

Blinking, Tipper got into the cruiser. "But Taylor and the kids are three states away," she said, putting on her seat belt.

Mort shook his head. "Elisa Trudy. She may be babbling in the psyche ward in Portland, but what she is babbling may make perfect sense to you."

"_Every myth, has some grain of truth in it its what you believe in, actually. If you can believe in something just on faith, anything is possible," began Taylor. She saw Tipper shake her head, not understanding. Taking a breath Taylor took Tippers hands in hers. "Ivy will grow anywhere, as will clover but they don't grow together. It has something to do with the soil - either the ivy chokes out the clover, or the clover overruns the ivy. It's a give and take process. Ivy lives on the dying, but clover is different, it puts life back into the soil."_

Tipper looked out the window, remembering what words Taylor had told her. They all had the silver rings with clover and ivy on them - rings that Willie had been hand carved, not cast. Special rings ...

Portland's facility was reluctant to allow Mort and Tipper access at first, until Tipper straightened her spine and said, "My name is Dr. Henderson, and I wish to discuss with Elisa matters in regards to her hallucinations. If my hypothesis is correct, they may end shortly with this discussion."

The nurses looked at each other and then slid the visitor book over to her. "Honey, if you can make her stop going on about how she feels betrayed, go for it, but you know, that it has to be recorded."

Tipper nodded, then paused. "She had a silver ring, when she came. Where is it?"

"She has it still, won't part with it, and the doctors said that she could keep it, its just some costume jewelry."

Tipper strode confidently to where the room was, following the nurse. Her eyes took in everything, and in a paranoid sense, she was looking for the hourglass symbol, but didn't see it.

What shocked Tipper was Elisa was now bald, too thin, and her body showed signs of picking of the flesh. An odd feeling came over Tipper. She had never really encountered Elisa, but there was

something- familiar about her.

_"Trua a bheith agat do dhuine,"_ Tipper said to her softly. ("I'm sorry for you.") Elisa's head turned and looked long and hard at her. _"An Aimsir Fháistineach damáiste a fhulaingt. Adhlacfaidh mé onóraigh n onóir."_ ("I will do my best to repair the damages done to you. When the time comes, you will be buried with honor.")

For the longest time Elisa leaned against the wall, not moving. Tipper went to her, and showed her the worry stone. Elisa's head looked at Mort, then back to Tipper. Blinking several times Elisa sat down on the floor and started to speak very had to lean forward to catch what she was saying.

"I've known for years. Since it first came out - my grandmother knew all sorts of things and she would tell me about them … what to do, in case I would meet someone like… him. How to know _them_ … I've know all about them, and the kin, since I was a little girl. I learned that I would have to treat them the same as I would any other person, even if they are…well… special. My grandmother told me if a good turn was done, then it would come about again ten fold. You have to take care of them, you see. No matter how they come into your life, without them, the world loses something. Even if its to find Sainmhíniú." Elisa drew in a breath and sighed. "You're here because you want to know, because of what you see, and have found, but are not able to believe."

Tipper regarded her unblinking. "The shadows are light," she said softly.

Elisa nodded. "None of your kind should have left the woods and white rocks where you sprang from, and we've paid for the barter ever since ... Yes. The Barter. They came from the white rocks and woods sitting along the streams that ran pure, the ones that healed men of their suffering, men who paid them in the best gold. Soon they came and asked for the hands of the winsome lass's in hand fasting, and the children born spread across the land exacting the barter from others as well. And the people paid gladly to be healed ... until they learned they must continue to pay and pay to stay well, or all of the ills would return. The folk took the water by force, taking it away, and the waters stilled at the source, but when it was spilled to the ground from the vessel it ran blood. A new barter was made, to protect and find those who harmed those of wood and stone. They heal any one, but never their own kind. The weak always fail and they have to be kept safe from harm so that the barter would continue and the waters would run again to heal. But if you find one, and give them the task and they accept the charge, the barter may be ended. I've done what I could – I've seen the signs, I know that place in Cabot Cove is the place of gathering… of a new stream that will heal again. The old debt must be laid aside once and for all. I've given the bond back - I've done what I could to protect. Lay aside the debt now and release me that I may find peace!"

Tipper caught Elisa's hands in hers, and the woman jumped as if an electrical charge had passed through her.

"You have honored your vow to the family and the debt is paid. Your name is on the great wall and will not be forgotten. You will rest with those who have done great service."

"It is?" asked Elisa, her face filled with joy. Tipper nodded once, not trusting herself to say more. She had seen Elisa's name on the wall, something that now made sense - Elisa's grandmother was among those buried under the shop, or, should have been. Carefully Tipper cupped her hand and stroked Elisa's face gently.

"Trouble your thoughts no more," she said softly. Elisa nodded and then sighed, at peace for the first time since her arrival. Tipper stood, then with a nod to Elisa and then Mort, they left the room. They were met as they passed the desk by a young man who wore a doctor's smock. Tipper glanced at his hands and his lapel and was relived to see nothing strange.

"I was called when you arrived, and I observed your session. I must say, I have never seen someone who has had such a remarkable treatment as yours. Elisa is sound asleep with out her meds. I couldn't hear what was said - what did you do, and say, to her?"

Something, made Tipper take the young doctor's hand and look him in the eye. He was genuine in his interest. "I gave her answers, and peace." she said simply. Dumbfounded, the doctor nodded, and as he turned to say something to the nurse at his elbow, Tipper and Mort used the

moment to slip away.

Once in the car Mort looked at Tipper, who wore a very satisfied expression on her face.

"Okay, what gives, why are you grinning like the Cheshire cat?"

"I've solved it, sort of."

"Oh? And do you care to enlighten me?"

"The reason why the mist came up was that I opened an area without the second counter weight, and I dare say there is a spot for the sword of Willie's kin as well. The second counter weight would keep the sea off of the mineral that was creating the mist that came from under the door. Maybe it resets, I don't know. Opening the area without the counter weight opens up something that isn't good. If you have the counter weight, the passage stays clear."

"The passage to what?"

"The well."

She saw his confusion.

"Look, in the early days, when there was allot of people coming into the cove to settle it, they didn't really care what water was good water to drink. People would get ill, and only those who had the good water were keeping healthy. So, they go to these people and pay money for the water, and they they get better for drinking it, but they don't know they have to keep drinking the good water. When they realized they would have to keep paying, they rebelled, and blood was spilt... that may be a clue as to which mineral the water was contaminated with. People died, and they went into hiding, Elisa's family, though, had remained loyal to the people who had the good

water, and were charged with their care, and rewarded with care until their debt was paid. For some reason, the debt was discharged to Elisa, who didn't understand what she was taking on, until too late. No one was there to tell her it was over the moment we got a stable water system."

"So, the 'magical' spring is under the shop on Oak Street?"

Tipper regarded Mort. "There never was an oak on Oak Street, was there? And it's the only

real tree name in Cabot Cove, the rest are plants."

"Well, they press wine and beer into oak barrels ... why not a water storage area?"

Tipper nodded, then nestled her head back on the seat's head rest as she tried to work out why she felt as if she had missed something big.

She told mort she was fine when she was dropped off at her house and was just going to use the sofa in the living room to sleep on for a few days rather than navigate the steps, and her laundry was on the first floor anyway, so she could change - she would be fine. Going into her house she noticed the muddy footprint. She wasn't alarmed after viewing the size of it, and realized that the owner of the footprint had to have used the bike she saw tucked under the eve side of her porch.

"Frank? what are you doing here?" She asked as she saw him curled up in her living room chair. He opened his eyes

"Waiting for you"

"Oh, really?"

He nodded. "I got something in the mail this morning, with a note saying that I had to give you one... and something else..."

She noticed his back pack had something stuffed in it, and that his eyes were red rimmed. "What is it? What's wrong?"

He opened his back pack and pulled out the package. "It came addressed to me, but the note inside said to give it to you, that you would know what to do with it."

She blinked. It was Willie's medical pouch that held every seed he had ever collected, as well as the herbs he used in healing.

"It only came from England, thats all I know, and it's been sitting in customs a while, had to go through home land security. It was listed as an artifact/personal effects. He wouldn't give this up unless he was dead, would he?"

Tipper sat on the sofa, and swallowed. "Frank, I have to tell you something... and I know, you above all people would understand... I see people who have passed on."

She saw him nod. "I know, I've known that for a while... Angela, have you seen WIllie?" he asked softly.

She shook her head and bent down to his ear. "No, only Toot, and Mort thinks he is alive."

The relief on Franks face was evident, followed by a sadness.

"Hey, don't be sad. Toot said at the wedding he was a dead man walking, he knew his time had come. He is with his wife, and family, and he's happy." She saw frank sigh, then nod before digging in his pocket.

"I think its a bit big for me, but you got one too, and from what I remember what Mrs. Trudy said, Seekers wear them, and they are given to them when it's time, to make the way safe. I don't know what that means, except it's going to put us in mortal peril again, isn't it?"

Tipper nodded. "Probably."

"So, do you know what is going on?"

Tipper nodded, then shrugged. "Mort and I spoke with Elisa, and she was saying that, well, our kind had water that would keep the ills at bay, and that you had to keep drinking it to stay healthy."

Frank shrugged. "Yeah, she told Ian and me the same thing, when she was looking for him to be the Seeker. He couldn't, though, because he was of the family, and she was trying to reverse the debt. Is that like the fountain of youth place we found in the fall?"

For a moment Tipper looked at him. "Oh my ..."

Frank studied her expression. "So, you are thinking that it wasn't just the good water thing, are

you, that they really _did_ find a way to keep time at bay, and if they didn't drink it they would get old again?"

"Frank, I know according to what I have heard, what ever 'magic' the spring had, it was poisoned by man's greed. It wouldn't do any one any good to drink it now."

"What else did you find, Angela?"

Frank had been there, at the burial, and had seen far more than his share, and was family.

"I found things I don't understand, and could be very dangerous unless made safe. The ones who would have known this, Toot, Gram, they are all gone, and we can't bring them back."

"You found the way before ..." he began.

"I had help from Margarita. I've not had those type of dreams since she left," she countered.

Frank watched her yawn. Standing he moved in front of her and bent down and carefully swung her legs onto the sofa. It wasn't until just then that Tipper realized how tired she was.

"I will take care of you, Angela" she heard Frank's voice say softly.

Pulling up the chair he grabbed a short blanket and pulled it over himself as he curled up. He had left a note for his parents that he was going to visit Angela and placed it on their note center. The

package had been there when he came home from school, and his mother was out at Dr. Seth's with his baby sister. Dad was off working. Looking outside he saw the sky's getting darker. He didn't fancy a ride home in the dark at this point, and he didn't want to leave Angela alone. She needed him. He grinned to himself. That feeling of being needed warmed him inside. He knew he would have to do something about dinner, and after feeding the cats and giving them fresh water he poked about in her fridge. Most of the stuff was microwave, or boil-water-and-microwave. Shaking his head he poked his head in her cupboards. A can of mushroom soup that was budging, and another one that was expired eight years ago were collecting dust. Removing both he placed them in the trash recycle bin. He didn't dare open them.

It was a few hours later that she woke, sniffing the air. Something smelled pretty good. She turned her head and blinked. It had been the _tink_ of a cup that had wakened her. Frank was sitting with a cup of soup that he was sipping from.

"What time is it?"

"About nine in the evening. You had a pretty good sleep. Are you hungry?" he asked. He rose and went to the kitchen and brought back a steaming mug of hot soupy mix that smelt even more wonderful and made her mouth water as it came closer.

"Did you make this?" she inquired. pulling herself to a sitting position

He nodded. "Wasn't hard, really. Just some of those noodles, and a can of carrots that hadn't expired, and some of the chicken meat that was canned. Dad show me how to make it, we do it all the time when Mom is out and he has to feed us."

Tipper nodded. The instant noodles were a staple of her diet, finding new ways to eat them was a rare treat. "It's late, you should be getting home..." she began before seeing Frank shake his head.

"I let them know I was staying tonight with you. You really shouldn't be by yourself."

Tippers eyebrows went up. "Oh?" she asked, the spoon halfway to her lips.

He nodded. "I don't have school tomorrow, and with Ruth getting her shots she's been fussy, and Mom said it was okay. I called her when you were sleeping so long and I let her know you shouldn't be alone."

Tipper saw Frank didn't blink or waver in what he was saying, and that he had repeated himself.

Frank had called home. At first he had left a message on the answering machine, but almost right away his cell phone buzzed. He took it outside on the deck and listened to his little sister in the background with her fussy cry. His mother was stressed. Aunt Jessica was over helping her with Ruth, and while he could have been a big help to his mother just then, Frank had looked back and looked at Tipper as she slept.

"She's just out of the hospital, Mom, what if something would happen? She doesn't have anyone to take care of her."

His mother had sighed, then agreed. She hadn't seen the note until he had called and had worked up a fair head of steam that he wasn't there. Hanging up the phone, she'd turned to Jessica.

"Well, at least if something happens, both of them can alibi each other..."

Jessica turned and looked at Donna. "What an extraordinary thing to say! What ever gave you that notion?" she asked, curious.

"Something always happens, Aunt Jessica. We both have seen it!"

"Oh, Donna, that just happens in ..." There was a crack in the distance and the house was plunged into darkness.

"See!" Donna said picking up her daughter and holding the wailing child close to comfort her.

"The power goes out all the time, Donna!"

From the ground came an unearthly wail as if a hundred damned souls were being released. The sound was all around them - building, shrieking - drawing Jessica and Donna closer to protect Ruth's ears from the sound.

The noise started as a rattle of the windows just after the lights went out at Tipper's place. There was a definite sound after the shriek of a muffled explosion, then a pause, and the sound of the fire whistle being blown. Frank went to the window and looked out.

"What do you see?"

He shook his head "Only a glow down near the store. It's not like fire or anything - it's different. Greenish white and it's just hanging there, like a fog." He looked at her. "If it was something that you needed to know about, Sheriff Metzger would let us know."

The door bell didn't ring, and no one came around. In a way Tipper felt relief as she dozed on the sofa. Frank pulled up the coverlets over her shoulders and sighed as he snuggled into the chair himself. He had hoped the night would pass quickly, in a way, but in another, he wanted nothing more than a forever to watch her sleeping. Occasionally he would get up and check the goings-on down below, but the fog didn't seem like it did anything except dissipate, and then it grew dark.

The knock didn't come until the morning, and wasn't heard by either Frank or Tipper. But the lads recognized Mort as he stood on the porch and fished for his key. He had rapped with his knuckles a few times, seeing them through the window, and became concerned. The lads worked their ways about his ankles not trying to trip him, but only delayed him long enough to see that they needed both food, and water. He heard the gentle snoring from Frank, and rationalized that if the cats were active, and there was snoring, they were not in immediate danger. He filled the bowls for the lads, and as they ate with a quiet _crunch crunch _of the kibble he strode into the living room and pulled up a chair, watching them sleep.

Frank looked like a cherub - well, an older one - his face untroubled by the events in his young life. Tipper, though - he could see her brow had begun to grow worry lines, though she looked very young for everything she had been through. Her eyes opened first, focusing on him as he

sat, holding his hat.

"The shop?" she asked, seeing something in his face.

"A possum climbed into the transformer next to the shop, and set it off, fried the transformer and the pole and surrounding tree. But something happened on Oak Street that I cant explain. The nearest thing I can think of is that your lower basement filled up with that gas we thought would go down with the tide ... well, don't ask me how, but the electrical charge made it phosphorescent, and glow most of the night. And the nearest thing we can think of was the charge was drawing it out, though we never have heard such a racket before. The fire chief thinks it was like air moving through pipes when you let the pumps go dry. The cloud turned a blueish green and just hung over the shop for most of the night, and I can't say it was burning anything,

but the outside of your building looks like its been through a blow torch. The fire marshal said that there was no structural damage, its just covered with a fine white ash he cant explain. We didn't call you last night because there was nothing you could do. There is concern that there is more damage to the building, and it's possible they may recommend bringing it down. It's up to you, Angela. I know there is stuff that is best not brought to light down there, without even seeing it. Somehow, I know. What do you want to do?"

Tipper's eyes looked out at the patter of the rain that came down on the sidewalk.

"Is the roof okay?" she asked, not looking back at Mort.

"Yes. It's fine. I don't know if its safe for anyone to go in and see what's in there, I'd all be for just taking it down to the base and rebuilding."

"We can't, Mort, because I think the building itself holds a far greater secret to what is going on than we know."

Mort sat on the side chair with his hat in his hands and was silent for a long time.

"Angela, the thing is, no one really knows what is going on. I mean, you have hinted at things unsaid. Things I know I don't have the right to ask, or wonder about - but I know there really isn't anyone left to ask. I'm long enough in the tooth to know whatever is happening is one of those great secrets that folks don't speak about. No one here can help you. No one knows enough of the old ways of Willie's family, and I'm guessing that's what it really involves - that only someone of the family can understand all of this with out being corruptible. I'm not into the mumbo jumbo - I just need to understand so that the community is going to be safe. We've told the press that it was just a backed up septic system, and that the glow is a natural swamp gas effect. It smelled as much like someone dumped something in the sewers anyway."

"I don't have the answers, Mort, and even if they were looking at me in the face, even if I did have them, I don't have the authority to tell you."

"Why the hell not? If it's a matter of trust..."

"Mort - people are being hunted down and killed for this information! I don't want you to be one of the ones caught in the cross fire!" she blurted then placed her hands over her mouth.

Mort leaned back on the chair. "Oh."

For the longest time no one spoke.

"I guess its time then that I make my own journey to Ireland and find the answers, and settle this. There is a lot to be put to rest, and hiding from it won't make it go away. I can't risk losing the whole town, Angela, for some secret that could remove Cabot Cove from the map."

"It's not, your journey, Sheriff," said Frank softly. "It would have been Willie's, but he's gone. Toot's gone, Gram, Mither, Rosemary, everyone over there is gone. Even the new baby that was born - they are all dead. If they didn't stop at killing a baby, would they stop at taking someone who is older? You know they wouldn't."

"The kids would know," Mort speculated.

"You don't have the right to endanger them, Mort," Tipper said as gently as she could, seeing the frustration in his face.

"If they were so advanced, and knew how to do all of these things, why wouldn't they have written it down somewhere?"

"They purged with hellfire Mort, nothing survived," said Tipper with a hushed voice. She looked into her lap a long time, looking at the ring that had slid onto her finger with such ease, one that felt as if it had been on her hand the whole time. Glancing up, she saw Frank had a look, not unlike what Jessica wore when she had come across an idea. She saw Frank struggle with what he had to say, then he excused himself to use her restroom. It was a good ten min before he came back out, and he wore a flicker of a grin on his face as if he had come across some information that was too delicious to pass up.

Mort missed the exchange as he picked up his hat and dusted it off. "I'm placing a notice on the building for no one to enter, including you two, until we have this figured out. Right now, I have to head to the office and file the report. Though I don't know how exactly I'm going to explain all of this."

"I'm not going anywhere for awhile, Mort, least ways, not to the shop, not until I'm able to manage my steps here," said Tipper agreeably. Frank dittoed it.

Mort was out the door and in his car when happened to glance in the window at them. He could see Frank speaking to Tipper. Neither had explained how Willie's medical pouch had arrived there, or how Angela happened to have a copy of the ring that Elsie had.

There would have been a time that Angela would have spoken up and told him everything he needed to know with out reservations. Sitting back, he noticed for the first time something stuck in the visor. giving it a tug, he saw it was an envelope, and from the looks of it, it had been there for awhile - the damp from the morning dew making it wet. Opening it he saw that the writing was done with a computer printer, unsigned:

_:Mort - It is in your nature to need to know, or want to know. There are those who AM, and those who BE. Those who BE, will find the answers. Trust in them:_

For a moment Mort didn't know what to make of it. He hadn't seen anyone come near his car, there was no one on the streets, and the paper wasn't there when he arrived. Leaning back he reread the note. Logically, those who the letter referred to as the AM had to be people like Willy, and the BEs would be people like Elsie, and now Tipper, those of the family who would take care of the secrets. People were dying for the information, she didn't want him to get caught in the crossfire, and here someone already knew that he was involved, and letting him know in their own way to let Tipper be on her own. He'd give her 48 hours, enough time to rest and recover, and hopefully for the air to clear around the shop and he was going to find answers, starting at the library...

Frank waited until Mort was gone before he went to Tipper. "They did leave us instructions, Angela."

"What do you mean?"

He grinned as he held up the ring. "I remembered something that I saw in a movie, and when I went to the bathroom I used your bottle of hand sanitizer to enlarge what was on the ring. The band about the leaves isn't just a band, it's writing, but it's in some really old language that I don't understand and I don't know if yours is the same or not. What is under the shop anyway?"

"People went there to be buried Frank, the followers. I think I opened a door that I wasn't supposed to, and the gas that preserves the bodies got out or something. I don't know, Frank. I remember how the estate was, and how everything had to be right, and if someone is sending us this, then either, we are the very last of it all and have to be the secret keepers, or there is someone else of the family that is still alive and we have to keep them secret."

"What about Ian?"

Angela shook her head. "I don't think he was with Willie long enough to be told any secrets. Why would they send this to you?"

"Aunt Emma! She was the one that would let us know how her show was going. Maybe it was sent to her?"

"Frank, did she say if her show was canceled or not?"

Frank thought for a moment then shook his head. "She just said the reviews were not as good as she had hoped ... "

For the longest time they looked at each other.

"Okay, so, how do we read these without the hand sanitizer?" He asked.

Tipper got up and went to where her medical bag was. Digging through it she came up with a headset that magnified her vision and had tiny lights on it.

"Well those are cool!"

Tipper looked at him as she placed the visor on. Her eyeballs were huge, causing Frank to giggle. "Yeah, they are." Taking off her ring she noticed a small abrasion on her ring finger. Running her finger over the edge, she saw that there was a tiny rough spot with a thin discoloration on the silver.

"Frank, let me see your ring," she said, extending her hand.

Mort took several deep breaths at the stop sign. His preoccupation with the letter had almost made him miss a stop sign, and nearly was flattened by a semi. When he pulled in to the station, he tucked the letter in his wallet and stuck it in his back pocket. He could hear Floyd speaking with some one that had a British accent, and at first he thought that it was Inspector Sutherland. Getting closer he heard that it was a younger voice, and that the accent was different.

The lad was tall and lanky and looked as if he hadn't slept in ages. Part of his hair was singed an there was a distinctive wariness in his eyes, as if he had seen too much suffering in his young life.

"Sheriff, we've a visitor from England, says he's Bobby Winifred."

There was a hesitant look in the young man's eyes. "Um, its actually bobbie, as in your police officer status. Winifred McKee, sir. Is there a place that we may speak? I've come a long way to have a word with ye."

Mort heard in his voice 'in private' but he knew the young man was too polite to say that in front of Floyd. Nodding once, he shifted where he stood and said, "I was just about to head out for my rounds, we can talk on the way." Winifred followed Mort outside and had to slow his stride down to match paces with Mort.

"How long did you know Willie before the fire?" Mort asked suddenly.

Winifred missed a step. "I knew of him, and of the work he did in the city. Five good men died in car bombings before the fire ripped through the shanty town. I was the one who found the body wearing his blue coat after the fire. I gave him my life."

Mort flicked a look upward at him. "You're the first one who's wearing one of those that has admitted that."

"One of those?" Winifred looked puzzled.

"One of the silver rings they wear."

"Oh, that. That was given to me by Inspector Sutherland," he said matter-of-factly. Mort's eyebrows went up, surprised. "You have seen them before?" Winifred asked. Mort didn't answer. Winifred realized Mort didn't have to answer, because the answer would be yes.

"You came a long way for answers, though I think we both may get what we need to know."

For a moment Mort walked quietly. "I think you have been through enough to know everything that I've come across here... and I have learned that any involvement with Willie changes a man."

Winfred nodded. "It was the same, back in the town."

"The closest thing I know is that Willie's family had married with another family, the Fordhams, and there was a tragedy, as well as an act of treason. The Fordham family was involved with the Phoenix Park murders, and tried to implicate Willie's family, but they escaped. Since then, it's been a cat and mouse game, of who was going to kill whom. Willie's grandmother was a healer. She took in one of the Fordhams as an apprentice, and he brutalized her, and committed murder, trying to frame Willie. It didn't work - Willie had an alibi. Willie had discovered that the Fordhams had much of the town addicted to belladonna, and when it was all done, Willie wrote a book about it. The publishing company that handled the book was legitimate at first, then somehow one of the Fordhams got into the publicity department of the company and created a cult around the book, but they twisted it, making it another avenue to addict more people here, and use Willie in the process. It took him years to shut them down, and good people were pulled into their network. People here, that I thought I knew, and thought I could trust."

"And you don't think I would be one of them?" Winfred looked at Mort, curious.

"The fact your wearing the ring tells me otherwise" Mort said with a grin. "Last year Willie went home in the company of some of the residents who live here in Cabot Cove, and there was treasure that was found, and the people came back different. ..There was a seriousness that they never should have had to face. They went to a wedding. it was to be a wonderful time and a trip of a lifetime for some of them, but something changed them. It was in the fall that things began to happen that made me question my commitment to the police force, to duty, and protecting the innocent. Willie had worked at a bombing a few years back of an elementary school, and he and some others discovered that it wasn't the IRA that had done the bombing, but, someone higher up. Someone who wanted the discord to happen so that the laws could be twisted to take away the rights of the individual. He left his wife, and went back over to finish it. It got to be soon after that those who knew him had their phones tapped, and that they tried to frame one of his friends for a brutal murder. I could understand if it was a mercenary group, or a drug cartel doing this..."

"It was the head of Scotland Yard," Winfred said softly. "He resigned the day after I delivered the letter given to me by Willie. I made sure that it was done in a way that there was no connections to me, because I'd seen what they were doing to those who were trying to get it to stop. I got his healer's bag from the ruins of the shanty town, and I gave it to Inspector Sutherland. I thought it would be the last that I saw of him. Willie did what he had set out to do - he stopped the guns and the bombings, and there is a bliss that has settled over the community. I've watched it change the way people look at their neighbors, the community is looking after its own now. He came to me one night, when I was on my beat, and gave me the ring. He said that I would find my answers here, in Cabot Cove, as to what it means. I had read that Willie had lived here for a while, and that there was a need."

"I went home to my wife, and she was crying, and sad, and she said that our son was ill. The doctor didn't know what was wrong with him at first, he just wasn't growing right. A woman came to her at the market place and said to find a Dr. Boomer, here, in America. I didn't know what it all meant, so I went to my super and told him that my child was ill, and that I was told his cure was found in the States and I didn't know what to do. And he got a look on his face, he

looked at the ring, and he just nodded and said, 'Then you need to take your wife and child to the States and do what you can to save him.' We sold our flat, and we applied for a visa, and it arrived not long after. We arrived a day past, and slept a while, and I told my wife that I needed to come and speak with you."

Mort looked at him, curious. "Is either you or your wife Irish?"

He shook his head. Winfred saw Mort puzzle for a moment before Winfred said quietly, "I've

only just married. The others - the others have been told that the baby was from a relative that died in the fire bombings and we are his only kin. We have adopted him as our own."

"Winfred, I know the doctor that you're looking for, and it just might be wild coincidence, but I think I know who your baby's parents were. His father died in a factory explosion and his mother, his aunt and his grandmother died in a deliberate fire. I don't know how the baby got to you, and I'm speculating this because his older brother had the same symptoms as your child, and he said the same thing ..."

"He has kin, then? Or had kin? Are they still alive?"

Mort hesitated. "I don't honestly know. They had lived here, until last fall. Their aunt moved

with the children because she couldn't manage them and her own health issues."

"Then, the family would be wanting him back ..." Winfred said softly, and Mort saw the distress this thought.

"I don't think so. It's not that they wouldn't want him and love him and give him a home, it's just that, so many of the children were being killed that the family took steps to hide the children - entire lines of the family just disappeared to preserve the linage." Mort stopped walking. "Elisa," he said softly.

"Pardon?"

"Elisa has a ring, like yours. She inherited it from her grandmother. She said that the ring was used to identify those who would be of aid to the family, so that they would know they were safe with that person. It's not something that the Fordhams would know, or care to know, or know how to use against them." Mort looked at his watch. "Seth should still be there - let's go back to the cruiser and pick up your wife and son..."

Winfred followed Mort back to the station, and in short time with the child in the back in a carrier, he drove them to the hospital. Seth was at the nurses station signing orders when Mort

came in. "Afternoon Mort. Just off to see Jessica regarding a certain pie for the Women's Auxiliary Bake, want to see if she would help me with the brandied rubarb that sold so well."

"Mrs. F is going to have to wait a bit, Doc, till you see this little tike."

Seth was about to inform Mort that there were plenty of doctors who would do just as well, but then he looked at Winfred, saw the burns, and nodded as he led them into the room. Mort went to the desk and opened his wallet, taking care of the bill. The Nurse raised her eyebrow slightly. "Friend of the family," Mort murmered with concern in his eyes.

It was about two hours later that Seth led them out of the exam room and back over to the desk. "Mr. Angus McKee will be needing to be admitted to the pediatric wing, room 223, and he needs this prescription filled." The girl nodded, and placed the information in the file. His nurse nodded again. "The staff upstairs says the room is ready."

Mort sighed. From the room and ward that Seth placed the child, it looked to be long term care, and he knew that the wing was what had been set up as "Free Care - Critical Illness." A glance at the address had placed them at one of the care houses in Cabot Cove, but puzzling to Mort, it wasn't the one Taylor had left to Seth. The whole floor up there was long term, it was split between pediatrics, and adult, though few adults ever left there.

He felt a soft hand on his, tugging him forward. Brought out of his musings, he looked down at the upturned face of Winfred's wife. "Come, Mort," she said, pulling him forward.

He followed her into the elevator and road with them up to where the room was. The ward was quiet. Mort followed them to the room where he saw Winfred's wife cover her mouth. There was the child's bed, and places where adults could sleep as well. There was a common room with children playing with IV poles behind them, and parents who sat on comfortable sofa's sipping tea in the room. He saw an adult in a robe sitting on the floor at one of the tables and she was drawing on paper, and explaining to several children who would listen what the plant was and why it was important.

Curious, he went over to room and stood in the doorway. It took a moment to recognize that this was Artemis Poynte and that she had awakened from her incident. He knew that if she had memories of the event, that Seth would have told him. He could see there was some damage to the one side of the body from the way she held her pen as she worked. From the fire chief's reports, the greenhouse had been almost a total loss, and the current president of the school was not inclined to use funding from the sports stadium to replace it.

There were oohhs and awwws from the kids - as she made some of the plants that she drew have funny faces. For a moment she paused, then her hand went down, dropping the pencil. One of the kids picked it up for her then said seriously to her, "It's time for your nap, Ma'am."

She nodded. Mort stepped forward and offered his arm to help get her back up into her wheelchair that she had tucked behind.

"I will help you get back to your room," he said to her quietly. Even if she didn't remember, she still may have some insight as to what had happened before.

Mort wheeled her back, then lent support as she got back into bed. As he moved the tray back to where she could reach it the lid of the water pitcher came off. He was about to put it back in place when he saw that there was something in the water itself giving it a light pink appearance. Swearing under his breath Mort sighed. "Don't drink the water," he said to her. He looked around and opened her bathroom, then checked the closets, and then saw something under the bed. It was a cap to a syringe. Using care he picked it up and bagged it, then getting a box from her close, he carefully placed the water container and the lid into it so that he could dust for fingerprints.

As he worked, he asked her, "Mrs. Poyte, do you remember anything about what was happening at the university and the president of the university?"

She sighed. "I guess I made the connection between my husband, and Brianna long ago. I was married to him but in truth, it was more of a marriage of convenience between us. I did love him, in a way. But he was never there for me. He said that he couldn't be seen to take favorites over issues, because that would jeopardize his career as well. I didn't realize that his lectures were ones I had given years ago. He was incapable of independent thought at times."

"Why did you marry him?" Mort asked softly.

"As fulfilling as the greenhouse and the classes were, I was lonely. I didn't want to be found three days later when I didn't show up for class. I needed someone to be there, someone to talk to, and his ideas on developing vegetation spectrometers intrigued me. I knew that they had discussed it in different forums, but no one wanted to delve into the practical applications

because it would put many researcher out of work."

"How so?"

"If you could place any plant in a machine, and in an hour it would tell you what medicines it could be used for - there would be no reason to have many many researchers studying distillation of plants to see what they _might_ yield."

They were interrupted by the arrival of Floyd, who took the box and the fingerprints with him to the lab to be tested. Mort got her a clean cup and pitcher, and informed Seth that he was staying on to keep an eye out on the wing, and to review security tapes.

The last time she had been attacked it had been a dark haired woman; this time, it looked like a red-headed man, a bit broader in the face, but the same height but the walk was different for a man. Mort could see that in the tapes right away. He saw the door to the room open and Winfred come in.

"Sheriff, I've just learned that the bills for all of this have been taken care of, though I don't know how, or who to thank. It's all been a bit much for the Missus. Your Dr. Seth was ever so kind to explain about Angus, that there is hope for him. In all that we have at home, we have nothing like this at all. How is this all possible?"

"Willie made this hospital wing possible, as well as the care so that no child would go without care because of need, or lack of knowledge."

"Not to sound ungrateful, but why? Why would he do all this and know that he was risking his family's life, as well as his own?"

"I guess it didn't matter whose child needed saving."

Elizabeth McKee cuddled the young infant in her arms. By what Dr. Seth had told them, he was about five months old, though he looked much smaller. He moved his arm that held the IV in it and she shushed him, singing a simple lullaby to him as he nodded off to sleep. She heard a soft sound and looked up. There was a young boy who had dark hair, and long lashes regarding her from the doorframe.

"What did you name him?" asked the child.

"Angus John McKee, after my husband and my father."

She saw the child nod, and relax. "Tis a good name." He slipped into the room as light as air. She could see he was in hospital scrubs, and hospital booties.

"My name is Elizabeth McKee, what's yours?"

"Ian McAvery," he said softly. He sat beside her and carefully touched the blanket-covered toe. She saw such, sadness in his eyes. "I never was able to say a proper good-bye to mum. She packed me up away to my uncle's, then when the baby came, she packed my sisters up too, and I was cold in my heart to her, and to him. That she could just give up on the kids who loved her more than anything for a baby, and a chance to find a husband. I had to be strong, to be the man of the house for my sisters. We felt her die... her, gram, and my aunt...It was a pain that ripped me up inside and I felt the worst of it because of how I had set my heart. I didn't know she'd be gone so soon in my life, and I didn't have time to tell her I love her just one more time ..."

"She knows you love her. Every mother does."

"I suppose you're right ... Tell Dr. Seth that Ian says, corn syrup. He will know what to do." Standing up, Ian kissed the baby's head, then her cheek before going out the door, leaving her a bit bewildered.

Seth made his rounds later that night and found Elizabeth McKee up. Checking on the baby he scolded her to get some rest as he had planned to do the same and it had been a long day.

"Dr. Seth, there was a lad in here," she said. "He said, 'Tell Dr. Seth that Ian says, corn syrup,'

and that you would know what that means. What is corn syrup? Or syrup, for that matter? And how can it help the baby?"

Seth sat down quickly in the chair, as if the wind had been knocked out of him.

"Ian was in here?" he asked softly.

She nodded. "Yes. Why, what's wrong?

Seth stood, then handed the baby to Winfred and took her hand leading her to an isolation ward. In the bed was Ian, wrapped in soft blankets with an IV in his hand and a ventilation tube on. Beside the bed sat Taylor looking worn, but not defeated.

"Is that the boy you saw?" Elizabeth nodded then looked to Seth for answers. "We knew that Ian's immune system was compromised a long time ago, he caught a bit of a cold, that he couldn't shake, and it went into his lungs. he's not moved much in the last 72 hours." Elizabeth went into the room, donning a yellow smock and a mask to prevent germs from getting from her to him. Seth nodded as she walked in and Taylor looked up at her tilting her head at Seth, and seeing him nod.

For the longest time, she said nothing, then she went over and took Ian's hand. "I saw him in my son's room, earlier," she said. "How is this possible?"

Taylor blinked twice. "You know in your heart how," she said, reaching over the bed half standing as she took Elizabeth hand in hers. Elizabeth saw the ring on Taylor's hand. A bit scared, she tried to pull away, but Taylor held her hand so she couldn't. "You can not run from this, Elizabeth. The child was given to you so that the family could be hidden once again, and not hunted to extinction. Many have died so that this may be so."

"But - they are of an abomination - devil's spawn ... the wee folk that steal souls and murder those who oppose them while they sleep."

"They were hunted because the race of mankind was greedy for the knowledge that they held. They were slaughtered and their families were killed out right because they held true to their convictions. Your son's family were good people who have suffered greatly and now are buried because someone burned them while they slept. The child was saved, though we thought him dead until only a while back. I have cared for Ian and his sisters since my marriage to their uncle, and their mother knew that this would happen, she knew by stepping out of being hidden, that she made herself a target. She did it to protect the children she had."

"They are the wee folk!" she said in the softest of whispers, pointing to Ian's ears that were identical to his brother's. "How else could he be here - and come to my room!"

"Love," Taylor said softly, releasing Elizabeth's hand. "He had said as much that he had wished to see his brother before he died."

For a moment Elizabeth looked at Ian. "He said to me, about corn syrup..." she said at last. "What was he referring to?"

Taylor gave a soft smile. "He loves corn - corn bread, corn mush, corn on the cob, anything with corn, and he thrives..."

Neither saw the movement at the door, as Taylor fell silent.

"Young corn has antibiotics and antifungal properties. It is his body's instinct, telling him what he needs to survive. "

Taylor stood up, walking to the source of the voice, and moving aside the curtain that had blocked the door she discovered Artemis in her chair regarding them. There was a look on her face, one of intense scrutiny.

"The news last night told of a shop that glowed in Cabot Cove, and as I watched I knew of a type of algae that has gone to spore in the mist that would glow like that, like certain ones that are found near where the dead have been buried. A dose of copper sulfate would fix that before it contaminates the ground water. It would turn it red, and make all who drank it ill. Copper sulfate, can be consumed in small doses, making the water free from the algae. Much like the red tide that washes through an area of the ocean."

With that Artemis withdrew, returning to her room. She saw something in the corner, a shadow ... Blinking slowly she looked down and saw the edge of a shoe behind her door. With deliberate calm she rolled her chair to where the nurses desk was and said softly, "There is a ghost in my room"

"A ghost?" the nurse asked, keeping her voice down.

Artemis nodded. "I see a set of shoes under the door, and the shadow of someone in the corner from the light of the hallway."

The nurses looked at each other and pressed two buttons. There was a short click, beep, as the doors to the exits locked. One nurse stood, and pulled Artemis's wheelchair into the nurses' lounge out of sight, and placed another nurse with her to keep her safe. The next thing they did was lock down the children's ward and the doors to the other patients' rooms.

When Mort and Floyd came to the wing, they found the window open, and a rope tied to the bed frame, It went down to the next balcony, which was empty.

"Come on, lets go," Mort said, sending Floyd running down the hall and using his pass key to get into the elevator to try and head off the person. Mort sent him on, and returned to the room. He was about to call an all clear when something sharp clipped him behind his left ear sending him into darkness. Fifteen seconds later, the fire alarm sounded, releasing the magnetic locks on the doors,and plunging the hospital into emergency lighting. Mort picked himself up off the floor and found a dumbfounded nurse with a flashlight checking the room.

"Are you all right, Sheriff?" she asked, then she gasped seeing the gun that was on the floor beside him. Mort picked the gun up with a pencil, then dropped it into a plastic bag and sealed it.

For the longest time Mort looked for prints. There were so many from the hospital staff - everyone on this floor had been fingerprinted. It was during his work behind the door that he hit pay dirt with a smudge of makeup. Remarkably, it held a partial print. For a moment Mort had to think how and why the print was there.

He was about to call for the photographer to take evidence photos when he turned and nearly jumped out of his skin seeing Jessica there, looking intently at him, regarding the marking.

"Cripes, you scared the daylights out of me, Mrs. F. You're a lady ..." Jessica smiled at Mort stating the obvious. "How does one get a fingerprint on one's makeup like that?"

"By using a cream base concealer to hide something under a thick layer."

"Like ...? What or whom are we looking for, Mrs. F?"

Jessica borrowed Mort's flashlight and shone it at an angle against the wall behind the door. Its surface was smooth, yet something was stuck almost invisibly against it. Using a pair of tweezers, Jessica pulled it from the wall and showed it to Mort. "Someone who uses temporary color rinse..." Jessica looked up at Mort, her eyes flashing. Mort recognized that look and took a

breath - she knew who had committed the crimes, and from the way she moved when she grabbed his hand and pulled him out the door saying, "We need to make a phone call first, then I will explain on the way ..."

Dawn came, leaving an uneasy silence over the community. Taylor lifted her head off of the edge of the bed that she had been resting it on to find Ian regarding her through sleepy eyes. After a discussion with Seth hours before, Ian's treatment plan had been changed, and with the remarked improvement to his vital signs the breathing tubes had been removed, allowing just the line of oxygen and the steady drip of the IV's.

A tear formed in the corner of his eye. "I saw Mum," he said softly, and then he began to cry.

The call from Seth had interrupted Tipper's sleep but she had been grateful for it, and with Frank in tow early in the morning they went to the hardware store first then the fire company where she spoke to Lt. McKee in regards to spraying down the interior and exterior of the shop with copper sulfate to prevent the spore contamination from spreading. Together they went into the shop with masks and hazmat gear to work their way down and examine the contamination level.

When they arrived at the basement door, Lt. McKee regarded her. "You know in your heart what to do, Lass, tis why Willie chose you to be in charge of this shop."

Tipper regarded Lt. McKee. While he didn't wear one of the family rings, she knew that he had stood beside Willie during the gun smuggling, and that he was one of the few people who were on the inside that were unknown, but still marked. She hesitated. Something made her stop before she reached the second basement. Willie knew whom he could trust. who was in the family and in her studying of the lines on the wall, McKee's was not on them. She had told him briefly that the spore had come from a spot behind the regular wall, but hadn't been specific.

"Do you think there will be as much gold as what you found in at the manor?" he'd asked, curious.

Tipper weighed her words carefully and watched his face as she replied, "Treasure comes in many forms - unlikely, though." She saw disappointment on his face, and something else...

Faraday.

He was standing, leaning against the secret door's entrance, his arms folded across his chest. "You have no fear of the breath of the past, love," she heard him say.

Tipper felt the press of the sharp edge of the ring against her skin. It tingled there. She had thought to press it back into the ring, but something made leave it. She knew, then, that there was something _else_ about the ring, something that whomever sent it to her would have put on, knowing about this.

"Your heart is pure, Angela." Faraday said softly, then looked directly at McKee.

Calm. Yes, she felt surprisingly calm right then, and she knew that McKee's reaction indicated his heart was beating faster than normal. His sense of excitement was overwhelming her, pushing up his metabolism. He had mentioned gold.

It wasn't that she didn't trust him. Willie did with the guns, because McKee had felt the same as Willie - guns were wrong. McKee could support the destruction of guns, but gold and treasure were something different.

"I think it would be best to tent the place and then fumigate it for a week, that would take care of any of the mold that grew, and get it past the next few days of rain."

She backed upwards to the steps, going out. McKee nodded and gave a last glance to the basement.

McKee offered to arrange the contracting of the group, and she nodded. "When they are ready we can open the windows and the doors, but I don't want someone stumbling through the floors by accident," she said firmly. She made it a point to lock the door behind them as they went out to the sunshine and off of the porch. They were taken into a room where they were squirted off with a fungicide, and even then, the water at her feet turned dark blood red. Blinking a few times, Tipper remembered the blood red fluid that came from the post at the manor. Somehow, she reasoned, copper sulfate wasn't going to be enough. She struggled to think of what it could be, something that she had forgotten.

"I need to speak with Taylor before we do anything..." she said to herself, "but I have no idea how to get a hold of her."

While traditional calling on the cell had worked, and Taylor had let her know that the babies had been born. Getting a hold of her had been difficult: she'd called and was told by the butler that Madam was not in residence at that time and was not available for a while.

"Ach, she and the wee lad went to the hospital here the other night. She said she only trusted Dr. Hazlitt to take care of him. They are still there, as far as I know. Twas listed on the call sheet of who's been placed in the hospital."

Nodding thanks, Tipper sprinted to her car the moment that they said she was clear, and drove to the hospital. She found Taylor and Ian in the room playing a quiet game of chess. Carefully she hugged them then sat down on the edge of the chair and said. "Did Willie ever tell you about what's under the shop?"

Taylor shook her head. Ian regarded her then said just as softly, "It would stand to reason, if it's what it should be, it was where they tended their own. It's why I was so keen on following the Princess. It had to be somewhere here in Cabot Cove."

"It's under the shop, it's creating problems, and there is a list of names, of everyone who's been born and it ties the families together. All the names are there back for many generations, and I couldn't get paint to cover it, no matter how hard I tried. It was going to be fumigated with copper sulfate to kill the algae spores, but when they did that, when they washed off the decontamination suits, the mold made the water red, like in the story. When we poured the liquid down, it turned red as well, but there was no feeling like the spores were going to harm anyone, it has to be a simple way of keeping people out and still controlling the mold..."

"Aye. Would be the blood electrolytes, the sodium and which that you chose to kill the spores."

Tipper blinked. "That's why he was killing the children? The electrolyte level? I didn't see any bottle when I first glanced in. It didn't look as if the copper sulfate killed it, so, what would? I don't want the whole town's water supply to be contaminated. Even the instructions on the ring aren't clear as to what to do. I don't know what to do anymore, or who I can tell about this, or how to keep you all safe. Frank is in the same way, There is only so much that he feels he can tell his father, and I have no idea how we can manage to keep this a secret, and not explode at the same time." Dropping her voice she leaned into them, hissing, "And Willie took a fine time to go into hiding because this would have been the FIRST thing Gram would have taught him!"

Taylor drew in a long breath, then looked at Ian, who was mildly surprised, looking back and forth from Taylor to Tipper and back again. There was hurt on his face, as if he had been betrayed.

"Ye tell her, an you don't trust to tell me?" he said, swallowing back the lump in his throat.

"I only see dead people, and Margarita, when I dream. I saw Toot, and according to Mort, Toot is still alive and well and had been released. Aunt Emma didn't say the show was closed, or canceled, only that the reviews..."

"Stop, please," interrupted Taylor. Closing her eyes she compressed her lips. "Willie was the one who made that decision, not me. I don't agree with it either, and its not made my life any easier. He came for the birthing, and that's been the last contact that we have had. I don't know where he is, or how he is managing, or even who was able to help him get here. I lost him all over again

because of those stupid guns and a war that some idiot decided to wage against innocents. It was the only way to keep you all safe." Taylor closed her eyes again as tears began to fall. "He is gone," she said finally.

Ian laid his hand on hers. "I'm sorry, Aunt Taylor."

Lt. McKee worked his way around the building wearing the hazmat suit. Tenting the shop didn't take long at all, and it wasn't hard to use one of the skeleton keys that he had on his ring to get into the shop to open the windows and then the basement doors to allow the copper sulfate to be pumped in. He took a breath. According to the directions, it should have killed the spores on contact. Feeling confident, he worked his way down the steps of the basement to do an inspection. She was hiding something - the way that she looked when he mentioned gold - why shouldn't he have some when he had been so loyal to Willie, risking everything, his livelihood, his family ... Setting his jaw he walked around the lower basement tapping the new paneling, the copper sulfate still swirling about the air. When he came to one that was sounding different, he began pushing, and by luck pushed the proper place to trigger it. The door swung open silently.

There was just the stone room with white wash paint on the walls. Angry at feeling foolish he began to bang on the walls around him, not seeing a crumble of dirt coming from one of them until a small stone hit his foot. His sharp eyes took in the seam of the door, and as he stepped back, he placed his hand on the area of the counter weight. The door slid open. His heart racing, he placed a stone on the counter weight area and walked in, confident that he would find his treasure.

He saw lumps of things wrapped in cloth, and his mind dismissed what would be under there. beyond it there were steps that spiraled down. Clicking the high intensity beam on he pointed the beam down the steps. They seemed solid enough - it was just a matter of turning his foot to fit the tight stair case as it wound down. He had seen steps like this carved out when he was in the Bahamas, the coral was something you could carve quickly and it was durable. The steps lead

to a hall that had water puddles. Well, as wet as the place had been, it wasn't unexpected. The tunnel split and he followed it to the left through a wooden door that was off of its hinges. There were jars, sealed and lined against the wall with a soggy looking liquid that had bits floating in it. turning he nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw the skeletal figure sitting in the corner with a broken jar at its feet. The bones were different - they almost looked like opals, but he couldn't be sure.

Backing out of the room he turned and realized when he looked back the way he came, there were three openings. He checked his watch - he had about an hour left of air in his tank in the hazmat suit, and he didn't fancy breathing the copper sulfate or what ever the spores were. Retracing his steps, he knew he would have to come back down here in order to do a proper search, Would be easy enough, he would just have to tell Tipper that it wasn't safe yet, and he would have at least a day or so that he could get in and out with out her knowing.

It was with relief that he found the steps upward, just as there was a gurgle from down the hall, Seawater began to come in as he made it up the steps and out of the door into the first room. He was frustrated, and angry beyond belief. All that work, and nothing to show for it. Going to the lumps under the cloth he lifted one. For its age, the cloth didn't tear.

The body beneath looked as if it had just died, though it was no one that he had known. There was a sparkle that he saw- on the hand and he realized that it was a ring that looked to be pure gold. That had to be worth something, he rationalized. Carefully he removed the ring then covered the body again, so that it would look undisturbed. Just as he was about to leave, he saw a ring hole in the door frame, and upon impulse , he took the ring and put it in the hole and gave it a push.

Nearly dancing with glee he saw a second door open across the hall from where he was. Unmindful of the danger, he went across to where it opened up. Shining his light in, he saw more bottles filled with the liquid. There was nothing else beyond it. Swearing he went back to the doorframe and retrieved the ring before going to the rock and moving it off the counter weight. No need to let her know he had been there.

Going through decontamination, he hurried home with the ring safe in his pocket. He had managed to get it decontaminated with him, carefully holding it in his hand but letting the water and copper sulfate run over him. He regarded the ring. He could keep it, or sell it. Wondering if it fit, he slid it on his ring finger and admired it for a moment. He was never a ring man - there were too many ways that it could get caught on something, or that someone would notice it. Sighing he took off the ring wincing as it pulled over the knuckle. Frowning, he looked closer at his hand. The ring had gone on easy enough, but now his hand looked a bit puffy. Shrugging he went to the kitchen to look for something to eat. He winced again as he touched the cool of the refrigerator, and looked again at his hand. Swallowing he realized he had a pepper fine rash on both hands that was causing swelling.

Swearing under his breath he went to the sink and turned on the water, using an antibacterial soap to scrub them. He nearly fainted when he saw the water turn blood red. he knew it wasn't from him, rather, a cold feeling came over him that he had been infected with the spores.

His first thought was, how far had he spread it? Did he come in contact with anyone? No. The spores down the drain would be a problem. Opening his medicine cabinet he grabbed the bottles of alcohol he kept there and dumped it down the drain. He saw that the red retreated, and turned grayish. Breathing a sigh of relief, he dumped it on his skin and screamed in agony but continued pouring it as his skin boiled with angry blisters. Gasping, he staggered over to the cabinet where he kept his whiskey and using his teeth to pull off the cap he drank straight from the bottle, draining it. He fell to his knees holding a second bottle. That much alcohol in him would probably kill him but knowing the nature of the spore, one death was preferable over the other. He saw something move in the corner of the room, and nearly giggled when he saw it raise over him.

The ring that he had clutched onto fell from his hand as he slumped to the floor. It rolled slightly to one side before stopping and falling to its side with a sudden certainty.

Tipper sighted as she pulled her small car around the corner of Oak Street to see the progress - and was flabbergasted to see workers going in and out of the tented area. Pulling the car over at the Mini Mart, she told Frank to stay put as she walked briskly up the hill.

She looked around for McKee, and not finding him looked for the person in the white hat. "Who opened the shop doors?" she demanded. "The only people that have the keys to this place, or SHOULD, are Sheriff Metzger - and he's off with Mrs. Fletcher - and myself! I gave strict orders to NOT go in the shop until we were certain that the biohazards could be contained! Whoever has been in that place needs to be evacuated NOW to the nearest CDC facility for TOTAL

decontamination!"

"Lt. McKee said you left the key with him."

Tipper pulled out her keys. "No, I didn't, and before you believe that I'm overreacting, the fact that the spores STILL turned red when water hit them is a clear indication the copper sulfate IS NOT WORKING! Get your men out NOW."

She saw the chief hesitate. He knew his job, he had done this many many times, there wasn't a mold alive that could stand up to what they were pumping in.

One of the workers came out. "Hey, Chief..." he began, then staggered and fell to the ground.

There was a rumble, then a belch from the shop as a cloudy mist issued forth, covering Tipper and the chief as well as some others.

Frank watched in horror, and was about to open the car door when a soft voice said to him, "Stay here, lad, don't open the door, not for anything - best you lock them, and keep them locked."

"But Toot, it's Angela, she - she's in all of that."

"She's fine, lad. Just stay put. It's the others that will be panicking for a way out that you need to worry about."

Tipper realized that the man who had fallen had been right above where the rumble had created an epicenter, knocking him off of his feet. She had to think about what was down there at that point, and realized it was just to the left of where the opening had been. There was something different, though, in what she smelled - she recognized it as the same smell from when the liquid had been poured down the hole at the manor, and recognized what it was.

"Salt water!" she gasped. It would stand to reason: nothing grew in salted earth.

Mort and Jessica pulled up to the university's parking lot near the staff quarters. Just before they departed from the car, Mort's cell phone rang.

"What do you have for me Andy?" Jessica watched as Mort focused on the conversation, and his face showed surprise before he nodded and said thanks. "Well, Mrs. F, I have this one wrapped up."

"Oh?" She saw his face was incredibly smug.

"Earlier in the week Dr. Henderson discovered bones of a murdered woman on the

beach, one that had been shot through the back of the head. The bullet was still in the skull, but didn't match anything we had. Turns out that the gun recovered tonight was the same murder weapon, AND the bones have been positively identified as a female student who went to this very campus and disappeared before finals. She was a prize student of your friend Marcus and rumor had it then that they were cozy with each other. After she disappeared he resigned from his position, and placed Brianna in charge. The gun also belongs to your friend Marcus as well. _And_ I've heard the same type of rumor that he's involved with Ms. Poynte. Would be simple to slip the wrong spice into the mix and then pick up as a friend to comfort her... She rejects him and he takes steps to permanently end the relationship... What, what are you looking at me like that?"

"While it's Marcus's gun, it wasn't used by him..." she said, getting out of the car.

Brianna swore as the door bell rang insistently. Wrapped in a robe, a towel about her head, she had been arguing with her father about the state of the campus and how his dreams were just that - dreams that the campus could ill afford.

Marcus looked tired when she stormed to the door. "What do you want?"

Jessica's eyes flicked upward at the towel, and then into Brianna's eyes. There was a cold, calculating fury in them.

"Only a moment of your time," she said, glancing in the door.

She saw Marcus standing there. He seemed a bit out of sorts, but to her relief, his gray hair looked as if he had been pulling it out all day.

"Just to inform you that the police have discovered that the murder of a young woman committed fourteen years ago and the attack on Dr. Poynte are connected, and they will be moving in to arrest the person responsible shortly."

Brianna turned and regarded her father. "See? I told you Artemis was responsible for his death!"

"No, Brianna, Artemis doesn't wear makeup, or hair dye. The hospital videos do show a woman with her hair shade walking the halls, but at the time, Artemis had been restrained - to prevent her from removing the IV's, she was told - but then I learned that _you_ insisted they be placed on her, saying she was a danger to herself. Restraints that prevented her from reaching the nurses call bell when you went in and tried to kill her a few days ago."

"ME?" she gasped.

"While you may have been trying to point the finger at your father, you were leaving important clues behind in trying to disguise yourself as Artemis to belay suspicions. Strands of your hair were found in the root of the plant used to kill Dr. Poynte, colored to the same shade as Artemis's, but she never has used hair dye. After her attack, when I came to the campus the first time, you had just washed the dye off of your hair, you tried to hide the fact you had just washed your hair by pulling it back in a tight bun. But you missed a spot of dye on the side of your face. I noticed it, then, but didn't make the connection. I'm sure the mug shot taken by the police will show it as well. I can understand why you felt you needed to get Artemis out of the way, along with the baby that she would undoubtedly discover was her husband's, but what I don't understand is why you felt the need to kill a young student fourteen years ago? One that you

started rumors about, that she and your father were having an affair."

Brianna's eyes grew cold. "It had nothing to do with my father. The chit was making moon eyes at every young man on campus, oh, how they simpered after her! When she was in the room, no one noticed me. The boys would only date me during finals week, trying to get the answers to the tests, but _she_ had no problems getting dates. So, I just took her out of the playing field, and the

boys just flocked to me then... Artemis was the same way: the boys just adored her, like my father - always doing what she asked because of her gentle nature, and sweet disposition. I grew sick of it rather quickly. Her husband though ..." She gave a wolfish grin "Her husband appreciated me." Her grin faded, to be replaced with anger. "He was, as they say, a cad. He told me after I let him know his tenure paper was accepted, that we were finished. Done. He laughed at how easily he had used me... and he didn't care about the consequences, he wasn't leaving his precious wife who was blind to his activities. I went to the farmer's market, dressed down like Artemis, so that if the police traced the plants purchase, they would describe her...I put the plant with the rest of hers , and I knew it would be there if ever I needed it. I knew the gun had been used all those years ago... Father was so very careful about where he hid it, he forgot about it himself. It would have been so simple just to pull the trigger. I had my escape all planned...she didn't come in to the room, though, and when I got back here, the water was turned off." Reaching up Brianna removed the towel from her head, revealing the temporary rinse dye still in her hair. "I had nothing to lose...He wasn't ever going to leave her, baby or not, and with her out of the way, the greenhouse would be demolished and the investors who wanted to use that space

for other endeavors would be very grateful."

"But why Brianna? She loves you as her own sister!" said Marcus, shaking his head.

"A daughter you never had, was how you put it so well, father ... haven't you noticed, I'm not good at losing."

Brianna's smile grew cold as her hand reached in her robe pocket and withdrew a small snub nosed revolver. It clattered to the floor as Mort caught her hand in his. "Brianna Phippson, I am arresting you for the murder of Dr. Poynte, of attempted murder against his wife, and the murder of Erica Jemstin. You have the right to remain silent.. "

"Silent? Me? You must be mad," she said as Mort escorted her through the doors to the waiting cruiser.

"I feel as if I have failed the world, Jessica."

"Marcus, no, you haven't ... Brianna failed herself."

Marcus was about to answer when they felt a rumble beneath their feet.

"That felt like an earthquake!" gasped Marcus. Jessica nodded. Going outside she saw that where the greenhouse had been a plume of haze and debris was slowly filtering down from the center. She turned to Marcus and saw, in his own way, some understanding. He blinked a few times and it seemed as if he sighed in relief.

"What the heck was that?" Mort asked, coming over to them.

"Pandora's box closing, I hope," Marcus said softly.

Mort's cell phone rang. Irritated, he regarded it, then answered it. "Yes, Andy?" He listened. "Is anyone hurt?...What do you mean, Dr. Henderson hit the roof?... He did, did he? Where is he? ... What? Oh, for the love of Pete... No, just don your hazmat gear, and keep the crowds away... We will be there shortly. I have to transport a prisoner to the county seat on the way." Hanging

up the phone he looked at them. "The shop that Willy left to Tipper just imploded from the inside. Now, before I start calling people, I find it just a bit coincidental that this blew about three minutes after."

Jessica regarded him "Do you, Mort?" she said softly.

For a moment Mort fell silent. "It's why the founders didn't want anything else built here, isn't it? Just like at the shop, it's what Tipper said. What the heck is going on?"

Marcus and Jessica looked at each other.

"It is all right, Aunt Jess. He would have to be told someday," said a voice behind them.

"Grady? What are you doing here?" asked Mort with a tone of surprise. Grady looked older - far older than he should be, but there wasn't the nervousness in him that he had ages before.

"Attending to business," he said, drawing in a breath.

"You only work for Willie's family business - so, there is a connection?"

"Seeds, pharmaceutical production of heritage seedlings. Willie had been working with this college for almost twenty years in the research of drugs from plants, without genetic alterations to them. The school grew around the green house, and it was a shelter for something else..." Grady extended his hand and escorted Mort to where the greenhouse was. Marcus and Jessica stayed behind.

"It will change him forever, as well as your relationship with him."

Jessica breathed out slowly. Her time spent over in Ireland with Willie's family had given her an insight of some things, not that she believed in them. There had always been stories, when she was growing up, about the curious folk of the wood. There were things, she had decided, she really didn't want to know.

"I think Mort will manage , and do very well…" Jessica said. Mort would have to make his own decision of what he would believe. Tucking her hand in the corner of Marcus's arm, the two of them walked away from the greenhouse, leaving Mort and Grady alone.

Grady lead Mort to where the stone furnace area was and opened the door. Modern times made smaller furnaces, the one to heat the greenhouse was just the size of a dishwasher for an apartment. Grady walked to a wall, and removing his ring, took it off and placed it in a nondescript hole and pushed. There was a click, and the stone door which was very solid swung back on an easy pivot. There were still clouds of dust hanging in the air, but there was no sign of structural damage. It opened to a small room, and using a small stone much like what Tipper

carried, Grady placed it in the depression, then took the ring again and placed it in the wall. A second panel opened, to a bigger room that held containers of dried plants, and what looked like mineral salts.

Grady sat on the corner of a small ledge. "You, know, the story that Frank wrote, for his final over the summer - you read it, and heard the accounts. What it didn't go on to say was that many of those who went into hiding came here to America, some settling in Cabot Cove, and they brought their seeds and their way of staying healthy. They are prone to illness, they always have been, and normal medication doesn't work on them - they have to keep the water they drink free from micro-bacteria, and it was a way of life for them, growing herbs and plants to keep them healthy, purifying the water source. They knew that the process would create its own hazards, a fungus that is difficult to kill at best from the particulates that have been filtered out. Ironically, it's the only thing that they are immune to. When treated and broken down with anaerobic bacteria it actually helped the plants that they grew to help them stay well - almost like their version of a super antibiotic, but normal people can't tolerate it. Somehow, they learned how to filter the water and control the fungus down in these lime caves, and they survived. The flood damage to Willie's shop shifted the balance though, fresh water makes the spores grow out of control, and while it takes a while, with the right conditions, if unchecked it would have taken over Cabot Cove, and the eastern seaboard ... but there was always an answer to make things safe, and that was the lime and the seawater. Both would make the spore die, but still be usable in the soil. The explosions you felt were the fail-safe that they put into place to release enough lime to render the spores safe. There is a safety valve that is pressure directed. If the air pressure changed in the caves, the fail safe would happen."

"Your telling me this spore can help people who have no immunity at all? This could be a cancer cure, or AIDS..." Mort blinked. "It's why they hid it, because it wouldn't work on everyone, just the people who have the specific illness, right?"

Grady nodded. "The pure water they sold - it was better than the filth they were drinking. The herbs they grew as well - they were potent medicines."

"So, they just are brilliant chemists who found a work-around against a genetic ..."

Grady didn't blink, didn't move. He just looked at Mort.

"They aren't -"

Grady didn't move.

"OH, COME ON ... Do you expect me to believe that they are some supernatural ..."

Grady's answer came softly to Mort. "If you believe in the shadows, you believe in the light."

"So, who are the bodies underneath Willie's old shop?"

Grady shrugged. "Just family members. They were legally buried there, for their time, and sealed so that the spores that they had come in contact with wouldn't infect anything around them. The spore prevented the decay of their bodies. It's a symbiotic relationship between how the spores are created, and what kept them alive."

"Grady, don't you think by now, all of the truth should come out? At the very least, let these bodies be buried properly."

Grady shook his head. "The world isn't ready, Mort. I don't even think that I am ready to know everything that's happened, but I don't have much choice in the matter. As for a proper burial, unless they were taken back to the mountains, the soil would be contaminated with the spores and would contaminate the water system."

"What happens then?" Mort asked, curious. He watched Grady as his eyes held sadness.

"Well, if you're not of the family, then a rash develops followed by a neurological breakdown of the cells. You don't die - not from that, but living isn't as comfortable as it would be normally. Robert McKee found out the hard way. He's been taken care of - the others will be fine."

"And now? Didn't Marcus refer to this as a Pandora's box?" He watched Grady carefully as he flickered his gaze above.

"There are seeds that have been kept in the vaults, the greenhouse will be rebuilt, and the seeds planted. These seeds are both a blessing and a curse, Mort. Sometimes, though, the world isn't ready to know the truth. Arrangements have been made for the shop to be rebuilt, and the room below sealed again after the burial."

"Wait, who's being buried there?" Mort saw Grady's young face was unreadable. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tipper stood looking over at the foundation of the building that had been cleared by the dump trucks. The workers had gone home for dinner; most everyone was inside now, the curious long since departed. They had been able to salvage almost every thing of value: the looms, the wool, the dyes, all of the heritage that Willie had brought over. She had a long discussion with Grady - there wasn't anyway to know what part of the structure was safe. It was brought down, and once cleared away would make room for a new heritage museum . According to Grady, the way was safe now, the spores neutralized. Most of the debris had been cleared, and the area posed no danger. Her new steps were still there - just about the only thing that had survived. She heard the advance of the cars. Grady, Mort, Taylor and Ian came with a person who was wrapped in blankets. They waited in the cars until she nodded. Tipper lead them to the basement, to the wall where she touched the tile and the door sprang open.

Taking a breath she took the first step in, followed by a very weak Elisa Trudy. Guiding her to the wall, Tipper held up the candle in her hand showing her the names. Elisa traced them with her fingers. When she was done, she opened the room where the bodies lay. Elisa went to each of the bodies and carefully lifted the wrap. She found one, kissing its forehead, then turned to Tipper who had tears in her eyes. "We don't die, we only sleep," she said. "When it is my time to sleep, place me here, next to my grandparents and mother."

Tipper nodded, then led the frail woman out. She knew that it would be Elisa's time much sooner than the doctors had said. They had recommended against the journey, but it was something that Tipper knew would give her peace. Grady had informed her what was below, and in Tipper's honest opinion, the sea could claim it all if it made Cabot Cove safe. They had come to Cabot Cove, and dug their wells, purifying the water - creating tunnels to hide in while the others hunted them - tunnels that stretched for miles to the shore, and inland. Some of the tunnels were collapsed now, the rest made safe. She had made a promise to Elisa, and she was going to keep it then the way to this place would be sealed forever. The names would be hidden here, along with everything else.

She knew it wasn't the end of the family, or their ways. Grady had told Elisa as much, that a new bond had been created, and while all the names of the fallen would be remembered, the family had found a new center for keeping their children safe. She understood. Both Grady and Tipper watched them drive Elisa home, knowing her time on the earth would be short.

"The others?" Tipper asked, needing to know.

"Up on the mountain, Willie and Emma helped to bury what was left of them. .. Angela, you should know, the Fordhams kept records too - Kent left records of everyone who had been converted, or addicted to the drugs. They used belladonna with the spore…they were of the blood as well, but were denied entrance to this, as well as burial in the mountains. Superstitious lot that they are, they believed that they wouldn't die, only sleep - you saw the bodies, how they were preserved… like the undead."

She regarded Grady. "Which would explain how the kids' names showed up on the wall even after this area was sealed, and no one could get in or out to do it?"

He only shrugged. "There are always ways in, and while the world believes that this will be sealed shut, it can never be. Do you know why, Angela?" he asked very seriously.

"Because without light, there is no darkness," she replied.

Grady took her hand and led her back down into the sub-basement, back into the room, back into where the bodies rested. She held back, but he drew her further down the steps, where she heard the dripping of water. There was a kiva with a basin pool that held a single clay pitcher on a small shelf beside it. Water dripped from above into the basin pool below.

"Is this it? The fountain?" she asked.

Grady looked at her. He pointed at the skeleton that lay to the side, a cup in their bony hands. "He thought so. Maybe it is, Angela. Perhaps we will have a need for it someday. The way needs to be made secure, but not in the way that Mort wishes."

"Another secret?" she asked.

"Only if you chose to have it made so," he said.

Tipper closed her eyes. "I can't – be responsible for something like this. I can't – ask the children to carry this burden."

"I know," Grady said softly. "But the choice is yours to make as you are owner of this site." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It hadn't been hard, once Tipper understood the mechanics of hidden doors - How to Hide Things in Plain Sight 101. Glancing over at Grady she nodded to the foreman who began to pour the new concrete foundation on the interior side of the shop. She had been informed once the foundation was up, the building would be framed first, then completed in about two months. It had been a bit of a battle with Mort to keep the bodies where they were, to keep it out of the press, and official reports. The greenhouse was being rebuilt as well - Marcus and Artemis were handling that end.

She heard the crunch of gravel behind her. She knew it was Mort and she knew there was so much that she wanted to tell him. She couldn't, though. While he knew some of the secrets, she couldn't tell him everything.

"You owe me."

She blinked a few times. "Oh?" She turned, curious, and watched him nod.

"Big time for all of the fright you put me through - for holding out on me…"

She saw there was a twinkle in his eye. Her own eyes narrowed. "I take it you have something in mind…"

His twinkle turned to a grin. "Maybe." Sliding his hand into his coat pocket he handed her the ring that had been stolen by McKee.

"He is going to be paying for what he did a long time," Mort said grimly. They had found him babbling about ghosts and shadows, and begging them to heal the sores he said covering his body. He wouldn't listen that it was all in his mind, until they realized he had lost it.

Tipper regarded the ring. Sulphur dioxide had changed the silver ring to resemble gold. "There is a lot we won't ever know about them, Mort. I don't know that we should, or shouldn't."

Mort glanced over to where the foundation was almost finished being poured. " You made the right decision, Angela."

Closing her hand around the ring, she sighed. "I don't know that I have, Mort."

_The End._


End file.
